Amor Vincit Omnia
by A True Shipper
Summary: Francis has powers like no other nation, allowing him to become basically cupid. And in a time where every nation is more independent (and single) than ever, many relationships need help to either get started or be revived. And If Francis won't help the love lives of nations, no one will! But who can help Francis in his own love problems? Multiple ships, eventual FrUk.
1. Chapter 1

**Howdy!**

 **As I keep working on Bingo!, I got this idea and it was just too good to be not made into literature.**

 **("Amor vincit omnia" is latin for "Love conquers all", if you were wondering.)**

* * *

 **Amor Vincit Omnia, Chapter 1**

* * *

Ah, Paris.

The most romantic city in the world, with its vibrant and lively streets filled with the homely scent of baked goods and the happy chatter of tourists and residents alike. Gorgeous monuments of human engineering stand proud there, with people from all over the world admiring them and their builders. The river Seine, running through the city, picking up stories of love and hatred, determination and faith, hope and hopelessness. All of these elements and much, much more form together the outstanding atmosphere of the city, proudly worn as the crown jewel of France.

It was this special something Paris had that Francis suspected to be the origin of his power unlike any other nation had;

Francis could become cupid when he wanted.

It didn't mean he could turn into a chubby little baby boy with a bow and arrow like the cupid was usually portrayed, but it was similar. He would become what he could only describe as being a ghost; having the ability to go through walls and not be seen or sensed in any other way. When he did transform (by saying _"Amor vincit omnia"_ while holding his right hand near his heart), he got a stylish ancient-Greek style toga as his ghost outfit, and most importantly, a very special bow.

The bow of the cupid was of light birch wood decorated by small, golden leaves sunken into the wood every there and there. Along with them came multiple carvings in Latin around the bow, each and every one about love. It fired typical cupid arrows; anyone who gets hit by one suddenly feels a massive rush of love, desire and lust for the person the cupid, or in this case Francis, wanted.

Francis didn't quite recall when he first had discovered his powers, but so far he was the only one who knew about them. He wanted it to stay as his little secret, and what would be the fun in telling everyone?

Francis liked to stroll around some quiet cafés and parks the most, since the risk of accidentally hitting someone else than intended was minimal. And it was much more _romantic_ than to run around the streets!

Francis sparked all kinds of relationships, or even revived lost love between couples. The feeling of accomplishment when it all worked out for people was always enough to bring a smirk to his face, and it kept him going. And of course since he was _slightly_ perverted, sometimes he could use his ghost form to voyeur the… fruits of his work…

But there were still downsides.

Francis sometimes felt like he didn't quite get the credit he rightfully deserved for fixing all kinds of love triangles. And when he wished to become human again, he would pop back to his human form fully naked. But of course Francis didn't think it was just a bad thing; appearing stark naked in front of your lover at any given time gave Francis the power to fulfill, many, many fantasies if he wished.

But then again he really didn't have anyone who to appear to. And he thought it was just plain wrong the use his power to make people fall in love with him, otherwise there would be a certain someone he would have shot many, many times over.

' _Arthur...'_ Francis thought as he lazily played with his ballpoint pen at the Paris U.N meeting.

"And I think we totally should make hamburgers free for everyone!" Alfred blabbered at the other end of the long table, and Francis looked around to see other nations, all looking, more or less, bored of Alfred's non-stop talking.

"All right people, this is enough for today." Ludwig's voice was heard and a few relieved sighs followed from around the room. Francis stood up to pack his bags like everyone else, and headed off, stretching his legs as he walked the long corridor to leave the building he had been stuck in for several hours. But so had been everyone else, and Francis knew they were all going to explore Paris and have fun during the whole week of U.N meetings and such. And this gave a golden opportunity for Francis to start playing cupid for the nations, since the love lives of many were more complex than it first seemed. Francis knew there was unbelievable sexual tension between nations, and had been there for the worst case scenarios, hundreds of years. And memories of past relationships or alliances were still there to create uncertainty and tension.

But Francis could and would intervene, it felt like it was his duty.

Francis threw on his deep dark purple coat and hailed a cab. Everyone was staying at a hotel a bit further away from the very center of Paris, suggested by Francis in order to avoid tourists and give them a more real experience of the city.

He stepped out to the evening rain about ten minutes later, to find himself in front of the large hotel he knew very well, he had stayed there many times before and since it was so close to multiple quiet parks and inviting cafés and restaurants, it was perfect for his cause.

Francis opened the door to his suite and flopped onto the bed. He was smiling from excitement; the opportunity to play with the love lives of people was open to him most of the time, but he hadn't even shot a nation with an arrow, ever!

Francis had a plan; he would prepare a meeting with two other nations and at the last minute suddenly drop out because of some important U.N stuff or whatever he could think of. Then, when the two were left to themselves, Francis could start fixing their relationship. He didn't think firing an arrow created new feelings for someone, but they just intensified existing ones. And so Francis didn't think he was forcing anyone to love someone, he had seen people get hit by the arrow but not reacting to it in a major way. So the people hit by one were still the ones in control of their feelings and actions.

"Hello? Room service? Ah yes. A glass of red wine, and something the chef recommends to room 189. Thanks." Francis lowered the phone and sighed. He was going to have early dinner and then, "attend" Toris and Feliks for a tour of the nearby parks.

Francis thought the relationship between Toris and Feliks was a prime example of the complexity of nation relationships. They used to be together at the time of the Commonwealth of Poland-Lithuania, or during the middle ages. But a lot had happened since then, and the snooping around Francis had done revealed a lot which was keeping them from reuniting.

Toris felt shadowed by Feliks in their last relationship, and since Feliks never actually showed through all of his actions how much he did care (sometimes even doing the exact opposite), Francis supposed Toris never felt equal or treated well. But that was hundreds of years ago, and Feliks was more aware of his mistakes. He had matured slightly, and Francis noticed the way he wasn't quite as selfish around Toris as he used to be. Maybe he was regretting he never truly showed Toris what he felt?

Toris was clearly not over it either, and while he had often felt mistreated and frustrated, the affection he felt for Feliks was still there. But Francis suspected he was tired of being the only one to show any signs of affection, and so was waiting for a sign from Feliks, some sort of an act of love and apology. And since Feliks was still too stubborn and feared he would upset Toris again, he was not making a move either. The time they had spent after Toris was freed from Ivan had repaired their relationship so they were friends again, but the things both wanted to hear hadn't been said. And while Francis could never force either to start a talk, he was fairly confident the years of sexual tension were finally becoming too much for both. And the arrows might be just the thing required to make it all fall into place…

Francis thanked the person who bought him his glass of wine and plate of Hachis Parmentier; made from a layer of exceptionally good ground beef topped by a layer of mashed potatoes. Francis wasn't expecting such a comfort food of a dish, but then again he loved the restaurant of the hotel because they liked to surprise the customers with something unexpected. Francis was not surprised when it tasted and smelled amazing, and went well with the wine he had ordered. Then, his phone ringed.

"Francis, where are you? We've been waiting for you for like, forever." It was Feliks, and Francis could hear the frustration in his voice. "I'm so sorry Feliks, but the U.N meetings cause a lot of paperwork for the host nation. And unfortunately it's taking more time than I thought it would. I would love to join you, but I'm just too busy." Francis lied effortlessly and he heard Feliks sigh. "All right, I guess we can look around a park by ourselves if you can't like, make it." Francis smiled devilishly; everything was going as planned!

He stood up, put his right hand on his chest, and after checking the windows and door were all closed, he spoke.

"Armor vincit omnia."

He immediately felt a warm, fuzzy feeling engulf him and he saw as his clothes fell through his ghost being. He fixed his toga to a better position and wished he could slightly tweak it so it would be closer to a beige color, but it would have to do. As he walked literally through the door, he was disappointed he couldn't see himself in the mirrors on the hotel corridors. It made it impossible to make sure he was looking good, even if nobody else could see him.

He reached the park in no time and started looking around for his target. He found Feliks and Toris walking around, Feliks cracking jokes every now and then and Toris admiring the flowers, which were of no interest to Feliks.

Francis had learned early on that the point where he fired the arrow was crucial. Fire it too early, and the target might hesitate. Fire it too late, and the person hit could already have messed things up.

' _And now we wait…'_ Francis thought.

* * *

"I wonder what Francis had planned for us. I hope we won't miss out on something…" Toris said as he walked along the little paths of the park with Feliks. "It's like, just a park. We can explore it together just as well." Feliks replied.

Feliks was nervous to be alone with Toris. The reason he had the courage to come was in the hopes Francis could make everything a bit smoother. Feliks felt pressure to act more maturely and less like himself with Toris, to hide from his what had damaged the boy before.

 _'I damaged him…'_ He silently thought.

He, in all his selfishness had thought that it would have been okay to step over what Toris wanted and still have his love. And while Toris had never really spoken up about it, Feliks had realized it when he was taken by Ivan. All that time… all that time together and Feliks had never told him it clearly through all his selfishness and childish behavior;

That Toris mattered so, so much to him.

And when he finally had returned, Feliks had promised himself never to push Toris into a relationship again, and it gave him comfort and the hope they could one day become friends again.

And once they did become friends once more, Feliks was awoken to the reality that he really wanted Toris back as his lover.

But it was not going to happen. Feliks had gotten his chance, but it was now gone. Toris probably had someone else already... and even if he didn't, he needed someone who he could trust and would show him affection. And while Feliks really, really wanted that someone to be him, it was probably so that Toris didn't want him back. Because surely, he would have shown it already…

"Feliks, you look a bit distant. Should we go sit down or something?" Toris asked concerned. "I'm fine, like really. But it's cold. I think we should go warm up in like, a café or something." Toris nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I never thought it would be this cold in the spring…"

Toris agreed to go to the first café Feliks suggested, all the while worrying for him. Sure Feliks was childish and like himself every now and then, Toris thought that it seemed like Feliks was always thinking hard, and he hesitated before he did certain things. It puzzled Toris, but it also worried him sick. Was something wrong? Had he done something wrong to Feliks?

He wished that neither were true. What he wished to be true was that Feliks could finally return to his old self. Sure Toris saw how he tried to be nice to him and all that, but it wasn't the real Feliks. He would rather have the sometimes insulting and naïve Feliks of the old days than the stressed out, seemingly "holding back" modern version of Feliks. Of course Feliks had matured over the years, but not this much. And while all this time Toris had waited for an apology for just the things he used to do, he suddenly wished some of that Feliks he fell in love with and still loved was still there.

' _Please, God or whatever is out there, make Feliks okay and happy again. Even if that happiness is without me…'_ Toris thought sadly, almost feeling a lone tear in the corner of his left eye.

* * *

Francis pondered what to do. It was clear both of them would probably need an arrow, but not necessarily at the same time. If he could get Feliks to tell Toris what he feels, and right after that hit Toris with an arrow as well to intensify the moment, they could finally destroy the wall of misinformation and distrust between them. But it was all down to if Feliks was brave enough at that moment, and if he didn't tell, the sexual tension would reach unprecedented levels.

The two drank their hot chocolates while both thinking about each other, wishing the other would suddenly tell them they really were loved. But both had wished this for years now, and hope was slowly fading on both sides.

"Um… where next?" Toris asked as they stepped into the cold evening air of springtime Paris. "Well it's like 20, so I guess we could go tour the north side of the park before heading back to the hotel?" Feliks suggested and Toris liked the idea. The two didn't talk much when they walked along the wet pavements of the park, illuminated by the atmospheric yellow light from the street lamps.

Francis was getting nervous. No talking was a bad, bad sign and he had to get the ball rolling before it was too late. He followed the two for just a little longer, but then decided it was time.

He took the bow and an arrow from the little bag on his back and when the two stopped to look at something, Francis saw his chance. He pulled the string on his bow back and aimed at Feliks. The arrows didn't hurt, and when one of the gold-tipped arrows hit Feliks, he felt nothing.

Which obviously meant he felt everything.

Feliks stopped and froze suddenly, a wave of every emotion washed over him. Toris looked at him puzzled, but Feliks looked at him with a sudden realization.

He really loved Toris.

The thing he was so ashamed of, so unsure to tell, so stressed about… it was there, too powerfully to be ignored or held back. Feliks tried to regain control but it wasn't enough, he wasn't enough to keep it all hidden from Toris.

"Feliks, what's wrong? Answer me!" Toris said with serious concern. "I-I'm… like fine… don't worry, just a stupid joke…heh…" Feliks muttered, lying every word. "Don't give me that! How do you think I can ever help if you don't tell the truth? Please… I'm worried." Toris replied, almost pleadingly.

Feliks knew it had to be told.

"Please…don't hate me for this…" Feliks pleaded, but continued before Toris could reply. "I…I still love you… I can't… I can't let go of ...you…" Feliks whispered with the faintest of whisper, almost crying as he took a few steps back from Toris in shame.

Francis then fired the other arrow, hitting Toris straight into the neck. He wasn't sure if Toris really needed it, but this _had_ to work.

Toris's eyes went wide from the information. He was in shock; not even in his dreams had he hoped this could even happen.

"Feliks, I…still love you… too…" Toris mumbled because of a mysterious sudden rush of affection. He walked right next to Feliks out of instinct, and hugged him tight.

Feliks was in shock, and so was Toris, so neither wanted to let go of the other in the fear of what would happen next. They stayed like that for seemingly ages, just enjoying the closeness after hundreds of years of separation, until Feliks spoke up again.

"I'm sorry about how I treated you all those years ago… I always cared about you so much… Can you like, forgive me?" Toris didn't even have to think of an answer as he whispered;

"I forgive you."

It was all it took for both to feel extremely happy, and the hug tightened. Feliks was sobbing from happiness, and Toris was close to tears as well. They would have stayed there for much longer if Feliks wouldn't have pulled away just so they were facing each other, and after looking at each other's eyes for just a few seconds, Feliks leaned in to kiss Toris.

The first kiss was unsure, but when Toris started the second one all the sexual tension of years and years Francis had speculated of showed itself in fiery passion. The two were basically making out in the middle of a public park, and Francis was glad there weren't many people in sight to ruin the moment.

Francis smiled smugly and proud at the two. _'Mission accomplished.'_ He thought.

Once they reluctantly separated, neither could stop smiling. Francis knew what was going to happen after this, and wasn't sure if even he was perverse enough to enjoy the fact that Feliks's room was right next to his. But then again he had never seen what sex was like between two people after years and years and _years_ of sexual tension… so Francis decided he could observe… in the name of science, of course.

* * *

 **And you can fill in the rest here...honhonhonhon :P**

 **Feedback is appreciated and please report the spelling errors I won't notice because you are blind to your own mistakes.**

 **Tune in next chapter to see which relationship is next on Francis's to-fix list :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so sorry for the long wait! This has been a bit of a secondary project, but maybe it won't take me this long to update next time. At least this chapter is a bit long, so enjoy (if it's any good).**

* * *

 **Amor Vincit Omnia, chapter 2**

* * *

When the nations gathered for the second U.N meeting of the week on Tuesday, Francis noted just how happy Feliks and Toris looked, shooting mysterious looks to each other every now and then. Francis was of course very aware why, and was quite glad the youngest nations hadn't been on the same floor of the hotel as him.

"Morning." Arthur said behind him, pulling Francis from his thoughts. "Hello." Francis said to the familiar voice as he turned his head to meet the brit's eyes.

"Say," Arthur started as he took a seat next to Francis, "Is it just me or do Toris and Feliks look somehow…different today?" Francis smiled devilishly. "You really didn't hear, did you?" Arthur shook his head. Francis didn't know how direct he wanted to be, but came up with the right words.

"Well, very recently they have gotten close again. _Very_ close. Trust me, I reside at the hotel room quite near them, and believe me, the sounds alone are something a pervert like you would enjoy…" Francis said, laughing a slightly perverted French laugh afterwards, and Arthur turned scarlet. "I'm not a pervert, you frog…" He managed to mutter, only widening the grin on Francis's lips. _'Liar!'_ his inner voice screamed.

Francis loved the way Arthur blushed, he looked cute as he did. He was usually very polite and cold on the outside, but that blush revealed the true Arthur, the soft one on the inside. Kiku had said that the Japanese even had a word for it, _tsundere_ , and Francis loved to tease Arthur about how much he fit the characteristics.

But thinking of Kiku brought up Francis's next plan.

He had been curious for long; who could win over the heart of a nation that had been isolated for hundreds of years? A candidate was of course Alfred, but despite his and Japan's close relationship, Francis was convinced their personalities were too different for anything more than a close friendship. And besides, he was fairly certain Alfred had someone else in mind… But that was another case entirely.

However, there was one person who had similar interests and personality traits; Heracles.

Greece had been in diplomatic relations with Japan for long, and the two were surprisingly old friends. Heracles didn't talk too much, and Francis suspected that Kiku liked not being pushed into conversations all the time. Heracles' love of cats was shared by very few, but Kiku was one of those people who did love them as well. A little bit of snooping around had revealed some rumors that they could have actually had some sort of a one-night stand thing, but rumors were never to be trusted. However, all of this seemed to point towards something, and while Francis was slightly skeptical of this pair, it was always worth a shot.

He found himself observing the two more closely that meeting. Neither were giving off signs of any sexual tension like Feliks and Toris had yesterday, but Heracles was sleepy and Kiku was a master of his own body, so maybe it wouldn't be too noticeable. Francis was quite sure Kiku could probably keep a calm face even if shot by multiple cupid's arrows. But he wasn't sure about that, and if he were to want so, Francis could even run a little experiment to see just how much the Japanese man could withstand. Nobody noticed the small grin he had at that thought. The things his powers made possible…

The conference dragged on for quite a while, and instead of focusing on the useless arguments going on, his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. But those thoughts targeted a person right next to him…

Francis could think of hundreds of moments he had spent with the Englishman, they had known each other for ages anyway. Countless arguments and wars for sure, but some rarer moments of quite the opposite. Francis especially remembered the time when Alfred had declared independence, and the consequences of it. Arthur had fought him, but eventually when he gave up, the man had come to Francis. He wasn't sure why Arthur had come, but he had been so upset and miserable for losing someone he considered his little brother that Francis still clearly remembered his crying face from that day. There had been a lot of talking and comforting involved, but most of all, Francis remembered that Arthur had come to him, of all the people…

"Francis, what do you think?" Ludwig's voice was heard. Francis awoke from his daydreaming and was completely unaware what they were even talking about. Everyone was looking his way.

" _The renewable energy deal between the Netherlands and Belgium, what do you think?"_ He heard Arthur whisper very quietly next to him, and Francis thought it was nothing short of an angelic move.

"Oh yeah. I think the deal is fine…" Francis muttered, not remembering ever even hearing of it. The others seemed fine with his answer, and continued to talk about something. Francis glanced at Arthur and gave him a thankful smile, which was returned by a small smile from the other as well.

The meeting ended early, and Francis was grateful. He needed all the time he could get to set things up for Kiku and Heracles, in case something went wrong.

Francis had thought of a few places the two could visit and talk, and had ended up with a cat café. It was perfect, since the cats provided something to bond over and the café was generally quite empty, so the two could talk in peace. In fact, it all seemed to fall into place so nicely that Francis couldn't help but idly hum a little tune as he walked the long hotel corridors.

He reached his room and decided to have some dinner from room service again. A restaurant would of course be much classier and have more company, but love required sacrifices. He did feel a tinge of loneliness as he quietly ate his steak while lounging in the soft armchair, wishing he wouldn't have to continue having meals alone for too long. He sat in silence as the clock on his bedside table changed its numbers to 18:21. _'I wish it wasn't this quiet…'_ he thought.

But he felt the universe laugh at him when suddenly the silence was broken by sounds from the room next to his. Francis rolled his eyes; how sex-deprived had those two been if they were going to go at it at this hour?

Francis, not feeling like listening to the sounds, decided he could leave early. He lazily left the dishes for room service to clean up and fixed his look from the mirror. He had decided to join the two for a bit to get the ball rolling, and then continue to the next stage of the plan. Naturally, this meant he had to look good, and was satisfied to see how well the dark blue coat looked on him. Francis even decided to snatch a rose from the vase in the bathroom, and made it appear from his front pocket. _'If only Arthur could see me looking this good.'_ He thought, leaving the room for the café.

The walk from the hotel to the café was quite long, but since it was a very nice day out and he was ahead of time, he decided to go by foot instead of a cab or a bike. He breathed in the spring air, which would have been better without the traces of the exhaust fumes of cars passing by. Francis thought Paris didn't exactly smell as good as a few decades ago, but it was still better than the dreadful times before the sewage system was built a few hundred years back.

"Ah, konbawna Francis-san." Kiku greeted politely as Francis reached the cat café. "Bonsoir. Good to see you two already here." Francis replied as he eyed the two. Both were wearing something between casual and formal, and Heracles looked slightly distant.

"Well, let's not just stand here." Heracles said, as he turned to open the glass doors to of the café.

The café was quite small, and not a very popular tourist destination. The lighting was from small candle chandeliers, and this made the place darker than most places, giving the café a unique atmosphere. This dark theme was continued into the materials used; the walls were dark cherry wood and the tables of only a slightly lighter shade of it. The other main color was wine red, and overall the café was far more romantic than Francis had originally thought.

"Bonsoir, welcome to my little cat café." A woman's voice greeted as the trio walked in. Francis looked to the direction of the sound to see an old lady, probably in her 60s, smiling. Francis greeted her back, and walked up to the counter the lady was behind of.

"So, what could I get you?" She asked the trio.

After telling what they wanted, the three of them sat down to a dimly-lit table at the back of the café. It was next to a small window, but the windows were covered with slightly see-through black curtains, so it wasn't much of a source of light. A brown cat with white stripes seemed to love that table, and other cats came to Heracles after they sat down.

"So, what do you think about Paris?" Francis asked, trying to get the ball rolling.

"It's a very pretty city, but I haven't really had time to look around." Kiku replied. He was keeping up his façade of calmness with great effort at that moment, since the person seated across him sparked all kinds of feelings.

Heracles was… different to Kiku. He didn't seem to blabber about anything that didn't interest Kiku in some way, even his outrageously suggestive thoughts were interesting. But he would never admit that.

Heracles was the absolute sexual opposite of Kiku, and when they first met, Kiku hadn't been sure if he could handle someone who was so sexually active and kinky compared to himself. But his subtle suggestions and words had actually, at some point, become extremely… interesting to the other. And it was more and more difficult to stay calm when they met, Heracles was one of the few who could truly challenge his self-control.

And it wasn't just that; Heracles loved cats and history, knew a lot of Greek mythology and philosophy, and was delighted to hear about Japanese versions of those. Kiku also found it strangely easy to talk with him. A combination of those core things and tons of other little things had formed the ball of emotions towards the Greek man that Kiku found incredibly hard to hide. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide, day by day…

"I agree, and this cat café place you've brought us to, it seems like heaven to not only me, but also the cats." Heracles spoke. Indeed, if he were to be a cat, a café like this would make a lovely home. Especially if he would have some frequent customer visit him every day, to get his belly rubbed every day… And it would be like dreams in heaven if that customer were to be Kiku.

He had probably made it very clear to the Japanese man that he would love to be more than just friends. At first, he almost gave up on the thought that Kiku could ever become more than a friend of his. Because, despite his best efforts of subtle and not-so-subtle suggestions and actions, the other always declined or shrugged it off. But that had changed a few months back.

Now, the other would seem a bit off and strange when he mentioned something suggestive, and Kiku would even blush. After observing his actions, Heracles had noticed that maybe, the other actually liked what he heard. His robe usually covered the true indicator if he liked what he was being told, but Heracles could just tell from all the little signs that got through the other's calm façade, that Kiku wasn't as calm as first appeared.

Heracles liked the knowledge that the other wasn't as opposed to the idea of them being closer. After all, Kiku was the person he loved to talk with, take long walks on the beach with, visit and tour places with and so forth. Everything seemed to just fall into place when they were together.

But knowing that the other most likely did share his feelings, Heracles wondered why he was still persisting to hide them. What would it take for him to finally admit the truth, or would Heracles have to be even more straightforward with him? Or the terrifying thought that Kiku didn't actually like him at all, and he was just imagining things…

But he was going to try, he _had to_ know the full truth. He was so sick and tired of being eternally friend zoned…

"Here you are. Two coffees and a tea, macarons, and two eclairs. This is what you ordered, non?" The old lady said, as she laid down the said foods on their table. "Oui, this is everything. Merci." Francis replied to her, flashing a charming smile towards her. She didn't seem to fall victim to Francis's natural charm however, and just smiled back as she went back to meet new customers.

Francis took a bite from his strawberry macaron, and had a little bit of coffee with it. He tried to eat and drink as fast as he could, so the plan could get rolling as soon as possible. Once he had destroyed his macaron in record time and probably not very elegantly, he heard his phone beep from his "alarm".

"Oh! I'm so sorry, but I have an important meeting scheduled… I forgot all about it, I have to get going." Francis said, abruptly standing up and walking out of the café, leaving a confused pair of nations behind him. He had to be quick; the two wouldn't stay at the café for long.

"So, I guess that leaves just the two of us." Kiku muttered in his typical, polite tone as he petted a brow cat who had laid down on their table. "Yes." Heracles answered shortly. "The cats are nice here, although their fur is a bit everywhere…" He continued, trying to avoid silence. "True. Say, how is it that cats like you so much? Almost all the cats have gathered near this table." Heracles didn't really know himself, and shrugged. "I guess it's just that me and the cats are so similar." Kiku nodded in agreement, thinking it was kind of true; the other did sometimes act quite catlike.

"But you are so much more like a cat…" Heracles spoke again, surprising the other. "How come?" Kiku asked in confusion.

"Well, you are introverted, silent, intelligent… and so forth. It just seems to match your personality." Kiku pondered for a bit and thought it actually sounded pretty right. "And you look good in cat ears." The Greek added. Kiku couldn't stop a little bit of color from rising to his cheeks; had Heracles just said he looked… good in cat ears? Like sexy good? Cute good? Just good? Kiku's mind raced.

Heracles eyed the other amused; Kiku was blushing! "Uh… Thank you." He muttered, but his polite and calm façade had clearly taken a hit.

Francis observed the two, standing right next to the table. Heracles was almost making him useless at that point; but Kiku was still not getting the hint. The Frenchman wondered why Kiku hadn't still admitted if he had feelings for the other or not; after all, he had been the target of endless sexual innuendos and suggestions from the Greek for years. So, Francis was convinced it was about time for Kiku to make a move, for the better or the worse. And if Heracles couldn't strive him to do it, the bow certainly could.

Kiku was trying to fix his façade; Heracles was going to notice something was off! But Kiku was positive that he already noticed, and he hated himself for losing control. Heracles wasn't actually flirting, was he? He did this all the time, surely he was just joking… Kiku's mind was just distorting it to something it wasn't.

"Let's have a taste of this, I hope it's good." Heracles muttered, and Kiku watched with wide eyes as he took an éclair and lifted it to his mouth. The Greek then opened his mouth and pushed the thin pastry in to take a bite. Kiku was sweating; that éclair looked like something else entirely. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't take his eyes off from the other as he closed his lips around the pastry to bite it. Kiku thought he was just being tested at that moment; was there even a more seductive way to eat? Or maybe he was just a hopeless pervert…

Heracles took a bite, and lowered the pastry down. He smiled mentally in victory; the other was so enjoying himself! Slowly, Heracles took his time to lick the cream filling on his lips. Kiku looked as red as a strawberry; and was staring with wide eyes. Heracles couldn't stop a small smirk; the other just kept staring.

Francis giggled silently as he saw what was going on. If only Arthur would pull off moves like that… But he wondered, if now would be a good time for an arrow. He decided to take aim, but didn't stretch back the string of the bow. He felt as if they needed just a bit more time…

"Kiku, you look uncomfortable. You not feeling well?" Kiku heard the words, and decided to cling to the words in desperation. "Yeah, I feel a bit sick. I should get going back…" Kiku lied hastily; he had to get away from the Greek to regain his self-control, and to release some, or truthfully lots, of steam caused by that éclair-show. "Well, I'll come with you." Heracles said with a smirk, rising from his seat.

Kiku stood up, wanting to just run away from Heracles and wanting him closer at the same time. He was too much for Kiku to handle… But now, to make the situation worse, there would be an excruciating walk back.

Francis frowned; he wasn't sure if going back was a good idea. But the two got up and started to walk towards the door, so Francis had to follow sheepishly. He observed the way they walked and talked, and they seemed to now have weird tension between them. Francis thought it was mostly from the Japanese, and wondered if this actually was sexual tension or not. And the question arose; was this new tension, or had it just been hidden all along?

The duo, with the addition of an invisible Francis, arrived to the hotel. Kiku was eager to get away from Heracles, walking along the corridors quickly. He didn't dare make eye contact with the Greek, just coldly looking forwards.

Francis thought if he had failed here; there had been no confessions or important events that "date", and while the two could probably sort it out by themselves, Francis was impatient. He had other people's relationships to solve, and the duo was wasting his valuable time. But he was given slightly more time as they arrived to Kiku's room.

"Room service here, a few minutes please." A man said, tidying up Kiku's room. Dumbfounded and cursing his luck, Kiku backed away from the door to lean against a wall to wait. But Heracles was still next to him, not leaving. "Uh… Heracles-san, you do not have to wait for me." He spoke with his polite tone, struggling to keep it calm." The man turned to look him right into the eyes, making Kiku feel exposed.

"It's no problem, really. I'm alright talking here for a few minutes." Heracles answered, asking himself why he was even bothering. Kiku was still not giving him any signs of attraction, and the weird little things he would make, could just actually mean he was sick. But he could just enjoy a little talk about his favorite subject of cats, if nothing else…

"So, did you like the cat café?" The Greek asked. "Well, it was nice." Kiku muttered, hating small talk at that moment. "Yes, cats make everything nice." Heracles continued and Kiku had to think; if he was cat-like, did he make things nice? No, that was obviously not what the other had meant! His brain really just was drugged on his hopeless crush…

"And the room service reminds me that they are very clean animals. They keep themselves clean with their tongue, but you obviously knew that already. But they also keep each other clean…with their tongues." Heracles said, lowering his voice to almost a whisper at the last part. Kiku couldn't help but think of what Heracles was obviously hinting at, and turned scarlet. "O-oh…" He mumbled, looking away.

Everyone would have heard Francis's laugh if he hadn't been a ghost. Heracles was almost as good as him at the endless hinting and innuendos, and judging by the color of Kiku's face, they were certainly effective.

Heracles was proud of his little sexual innuendo; Kiku wasn't even capable of stopping his blush. And that meant it had been a pretty good one. But he couldn't resist taking a step further.

"You wouldn't want to try it, would you?" He whispered to the other. Heracles was basically being as straightforward as he possibly could be, even to the point of it being a bit of a brave move.

Kiku turned to look at him in shock. He then regretted it, because his face was so red the other could see his blush even if Heracles were to be blind. He didn't even try to stop his brain from creating the fantasy the other had suggested, and if his face could have gotten redder, it would have. He was doing everything to contain himself and not run the hell away, but at the same time he thought the other's suggestion had sounded too much for a joke, even from Heracles.

Francis sensed his chance, taking his bow and pulling back the string. If this worked, it would be one of his top moments as cupid…

He let go of the string, firing a gold-tipped arrow straight into Kiku's neck. It disintegrated into the air after it hit, but Francis didn't look at that. He watched Kiku's face closely.

"Yes." Kiku blurted. Wait, what? "I MEAN NO. No, no…" He tried to fix his mistake. How had he lost control? But then it started clearing in his head; if he wanted this so much, why was he even hiding his feelings in the first place? Heracles raised his right eyebrow questioningly, and Kiku felt his walls crumble down.

"…Maybe?" He whispered very silently.

"Monsieur. Your room is now ready." The man from room service called out behind Kiku's back, pushing his trolley of cleaning equipment to the next room.

Heracles eyed the other shocked, and spoke what he was thinking. "I think that was a yes." Kiku's eyes widened, but after a little moment, nodded very slightly. But that was all confirmation Heracles needed; he stepped forwards to the now almost shaking other, and brought their faces closer.

Francis knew what was coming next, and smiled in proudness since he now really had done his part. The two got closer, and just a bit closer…

"I'M SO FED UP WITH YOU!" A yell echoed violently through the corridor, and everyone turned to face the direction of the sound, ruining the kiss. Francis cursed; why, of all the possible times, did stuff like this have to happen right then?

"OH YEAH? HOW ABOUT YOU GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME THEN!" Another voice answered even louder, and the sound of a door being shut closed was heard.

Francis sighed, but then realized that the voices sounded familiar…

"Looks like some are having a bad day… come, it's probably quieter here." Heracles said, pulling the other into Kiku's hotel room. Francis was relieved that Heracles was making it a bit easier for him, but he had to now know who those two had been, and what was happening. He was just a bit disappointed in not having time to watch things unfold…

The yelling continued as he changed back to his human form in his room, and just as he was going to go investigate, a knock was heard on his door. Not bothering to check his hair, he opened the door to see a familiar face.

"Big brother… I need to talk to you." Matthew whispered, sobbing.

* * *

 **Well there you have it. I think this one was too much about sex and that stuff instead of love, but then again every couple is supposed to be different in my story. Kinda hyped to write the next chapter, that one is gonna be angsty :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**(Note to self; never start two big fanfics** **and imagine you can update both regularly...)**

 **Well um, hi?**

 **I was surprised by the amount of positive feedback last chapter, so thank you so much :D**

 **I got some of that famous inspiration, so this chapter was actually quite easy to write. Hopefully, you'll like it.**

* * *

 **Amor Vincit Omnia, chapter 3**

* * *

Matthew sat down on Francis's bed, trying to wipe his tears. Francis shut the hotel room door and grabbed a few tissues from the bathroom to give to the other. The Canadian accepted them, and started to dry his tears and wipe his runny nose.

Francis sat down next to the other on the bed, and sat there in silence as the other tried to calm down. His thoughts were panicky; what was going on?

"Matthew." Francis started as the other had calmed slightly, "What is it?" The Canadian had to try a few times to make his voice hearable again, but then answered; "It's… It's about A-Alfred, and I."

Francis was a bit confused; had the two been fighting again in their brotherly way, or was this something far more serious?

"You can tell me anything." Francis said in his calming voice, a drastic change to his normal tone. "We… We had… a fight." Matthew muttered, his voice starting to tremble again. "Why?" Francis continued in his soothing voice, trying to calm the other down.

Francis didn't quite know why he was suddenly so protective of the other. He didn't really know what he was to Matthew or vice versa, but "big brother" seemed to fit well. After all, Francis thought he looked big brother-ish, and was delighted to be called big brother, even if nations didn't really have similar family ties as humans.

"I…" Matthew mumbled, "I-I like him… a lot." His voice was now trembling noticeably. Francis didn't get to say anything before the Canadian continued; "He… he didn't really take that knowledge too well." Then, he started sobbing again, grabbing more tissues as tears flowed again.

"What did he say?" Francis asked, worried. While he usually would've been happy to mess with other people's love lives, this wasn't funny anymore. Matthew took a few shaky breaths and spoke;

"So I told him that. First, he thought I was just kidding. Then, he was angry. H-he said we were just brothers, that my feelings were wrong and sick… That he thought I was his f-friend. That he hated me…" Matthew took a deep, shaky breath. "Then, it got really confusing and we started yelling and fighting with words, until I left. And then I dragged myself here, because I couldn't take care of things myself and… I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be here." He finished, rising from his position.

Francis wasn't having any of it. He snatched the other's hand, and without much resistance, dragged the other back to his seated position.

"Matthew, let's get a few things straight." Francis said to the other, who was now only very quietly sobbing. "You are not being a bother, and you have no reason to be sorry." Matthew didn't react in any way. "Secondly, your feelings are not sick nor wrong. You might think they are incestuous, disgusting… but no. Nation relationships don't work like human ones, yet we try to make them look like theirs. Alfred and you may look the same and act like brothers, but you aren't. Somewhere along the way, you were just tagged as them." Matthew slowly raised his head to meet the other's eyes.

"That tag doesn't mean it's true, or that it couldn't be rewritten." Francis finished his little preach, and eyed the other, analyzing him.

How had this happened?

Francis hated Alfred so much at that moment. The boy could be so naïve; being unnecessarily mean and saying things he didn't mean. He'd seen this so many times before; bad communication and choice of words causing much more damage than first intended.

"Stay here, I'm getting Alfred." Francis suddenly informed, jumping from his seated position. "No, please don't-" Matthew began, but was cut off by the slamming of the hotel room door.

Francis was mad. He marched along the hotel corridors fuming with so much anger he even forgot to check his hair before storming into Alfred's room. The door swung open from the lack of it being locked, and Francis was presented with another, almost identical crying person that he had seen a few minutes ago.

"Get out of here." Alfred muttered in a voice so threatening it sounded like it belonged to Ivan. "Alfred, you need to get a grip!" Francis said fuming with anger, standing in front of the other. He thought for a second he might be too cruel, but the other needed to understand his mistake.

"I SAID GET OUT, THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUISNESS!" Alfred yelled lifting his red face from his hands, but Francis moved no muscle.

"Matthew came to me. You know very well why." Francis said, trying to calm himself down.

"Aren't you a little old to try play some parent of mine? I can solve this by myself!"

"I'm not old, and you are clearly still too immature to handle anything! What the hell did you think you'd achieve arguing like this with him, after all the trust he put into you?"

"Serves him right…" Alfred muttered, clearly weakly now. Francis sensed regret in those words however, and sensed his chance.

"You know you don't mean that, I know you love him back!"

Time in Alfred's world stopped. How did he know that? "Not true!" Alfred yelled back in desperation, trying to block the evidence.

Alfred didn't know how he had managed to dig a hole as deep as he had.

Francis was right; he did like the Canadian back. But those thoughts were sick and harmful, and unnatural.

Matthew was in Alfred's mind still very much his younger brother of sorts. And while he didn't show it, he was very protective of the Canadian. But at some moment, he had figured out why he was so protective.

At first, he had denied it. It was all just a weird joke his alien friends were doing with his head, right? After that, came the realization and panic. He really was so disgusting to have feelings for Matthew, and despite trying his best to keep the other away from trouble, he had now become a danger to Matthew.

So, Alfred had decided to protect Matthew from himself. He had gotten more distance, given the other more time, and only releasing the emotions as self-loathing. The little things which gave him comfort were ones where he hurt himself instead of Matthew, it gave him a sense of control.

Control was what he wanted, craved. To be capable of suppressing all the harmful emotions, to protect the other…

Every time he practiced control, he would run and run and run till he was exhausted. And even then, run further until his legs wouldn't move anymore. And every time he felt out of hearing distance, he would tell himself how he deserved the pain. How his feelings were so disgusting and so wrong, how he was so weak for not having control, how he wasn't strong nor good enough for the Canadian…

How he wasn't Matthew's hero.

Even after running for miles and miles and miles, it was never enough. The pain became a way out, a distraction from the truth. And soon, it was an addiction.

The only place he could write everything to was his diary. Even then, he hated to admit to the paper how he felt. But after every diary entry, he promised to try harder. To look like normal, to act like normal. Be cheerful when Matthew needed him to be…

It was somewhere at that point when he forgot the last time he truly felt happy on the inside, not only on the outside. The only happiness he knew was when Matthew smiled, but with that came the sadness of realization how sad and angry Matthew would be if he knew the truth. This had gone on for quite a while.

Then, a new twist had come. Matthew had been sobbing in his hotel room, and when Alfred had gone to investigate what was wrong, the other had reluctantly muttered the words;

"I love you. I'm sorry."

Alfred had, at that point, made it a truth for himself that those feelings were wrong. And somehow, he had infected Matthew with them. So he became angry to himself and started unknowingly releasing the torrent of self-hate towards the Canadian, instead of the truth. Telling him all the lies he had told himself…

And now, realizing what he had done, it was too much to keep in.

"I-It's not…true…" Alfred told himself one last time, before burying his head into his hands and crying violently.

Francis eyed the other. He had been worried about the American for a while now; his diary was worrying and some pages were wrinkly from tears. He'd talked with Arthur about it a few days back, he was one of Alfred's closest friends and had been sort-of his parent anyway. Once again, the complexity of nation relationships blurred the lines of terms like "parent", "sister", "brother", and "child", but Francis had decided that Arthur needed to know. After all, Francis knew Arthur still was strongly protective of Alfred, even though he hid it better than a few hundred years back.

They'd agreed to talk to Matthew and Alfred after a while, if things wouldn't get better. Francis had been surprised with the seriousness and genuine worry Arthur had had for the two, but then again it was just these… _real_ emotions which made Arthur all the more lovable to Francis. In addition to the talking, Francis had thought that Alfred's situation had gotten so bad it might just need professional help. But he didn't mention that to Arthur; he would've become sick of worry.

"Alfred, you won't like this, but I and Arthur have seen your diary. We want to hel-"

"SHUT UP! YOU HAD NO RIGHT!" Alfred screamed, his voice trembling violently from the crying.

"I know." Francis sighed, sitting down next to the other. Alfred moved further away from the Frenchman, but didn't try to escape the room.

"Look, I know you probably don't like that I'm interfering in this. But you have to know that your feelings are not wrong or disgusting. I had to tell the same thing to Matthew; you both seem to hate yourselves for loving one another…" Francis said, in a calm voice.

"You keep thinking of nation relationships as human relationships, and I can tell you that you aren't the first ones to think like this. But you have to trust me on this; your love is very natural, and you deserve it." Francis was quite happy of his choice of words, and thought how much this improved his "big-brother"-image and look.

Alfred didn't stop crying for a long time. Francis knew better than to try to make it stop; sometimes feelings just have to be released. Instead, he gave the other a pack of tissues and just idly sat with him. He wasn't a big enough player in Alfred's life to try hug or comfort him, but he guessed his presence was still helpful.

"Alfred, you really need to talk to him." Francis said in his calm voice as he stood up, "He'll be waiting in my room. I won't be there, neither will anyone else. Just… go there and talk when you feel like it. It'll be fine." Alfred was going to say something back, but Francis closed the door before he could. The boy needed to talk with Matthew, not him.

Francis walked along the corridors aimlessly. He hadn't really thought this through; he now couldn't go back to his room since the two were going to need their time to talk there, so there was no place for him to go.

Well, there was one.

"Come on in." Arthur's voice was heard through the said boy's hotel room door. Francis opened the door and the other seemed surprised to see him.

"Bonsoir." Francis said, walking in to the room. "Uh, good evening Francis. But what are you doing here at this hour?" Francis closed the door behind him and sat down on Arthur's bed.

"It's not what you first thought, pervert." He just had to tease, and Arthur did blush slightly, but didn't get to fire anything back before Francis spoke up again, seriously. "It's about Alfred and Matthew." Francis sighed and Arthur's face became instantly serious. "What's happened?" Arthur asked in a worried tone, sitting down next to Francis on the edge of the bed.

Even if Francis didn't think any nations could ever form a family, it was if he and Arthur were parents of Matthew and Alfred at that point. It was a weird feeling, even though the four of them had been to places together before, it had never felt like what it was at that moment.

"Matthew told Alfred the truth. But I guess Alfred didn't really know how to take it, and they started fighting." Francis spoke, and Arthur turned to meet his eyes. "I gave them both some sense and told them their feelings weren't wrong. Like the stuff we agreed to talk about. I arranged a bit of time for them to just talk by themselves, but that meeting is at my room so I came here." Arthur seemed to be analyzing that information for a bit, before speaking up.

"I see. So I guess now we just… wait?" Francis nodded in response. "Yeah, we just need to give them the chance to solve it themselves. After all, they aren't tiny little colonies anymore, and we aren't their parents."

They sat in silence for a while, neither really knowing what to do.

"I'm really worried…" Arthur then whispered, with worry and sadness in his voice. Francis was instantly reminded of the time when Alfred had declared independence; Arthur was again worried for him. "I'm sure they can figure something out." Francis said reassuringly, leaning slightly towards the other. Arthur leant to his left in response, so they were leaning against each other's shoulders and heads. It wasn't sexual, just comforting.

All they could do was to wait.

* * *

The thought of leaving the room had crossed Matthew's mind a few times. Running away seemed like the logical, easy choice. Alfred didn't want to see him ever again in the first place.

But he was too weak to leave, so all he did was lay on Francis's bed, sobbing every now and then.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He couldn't quite think of a certain date when he'd started to think of Alfred as more than a brother. But when he had realized this, it'd been shocking. This didn't happen in the books he read or shows he'd watch. Two persons who were brothers didn't fall in love, unless they were far from sane.

Matthew dealt with the problem as he dealt with most other problems; ignoring it. He didn't talk about it, write about it, avoided thinking about it and downright denied the whole problem. He'd gotten a bit more distance from Alfred, to try and get over the thoughts.

But they weren't thoughts that would let themselves die.

For years, they would always arise when Matthew saw the other's light brown hair, listened to his bad jokes, saw a picture of him…

At some point, Matthew had finally decided the "conceal, don't feel"-strategy didn't work at all, and was bound to fail at some point. So after a lot of hesitation and multiple attempts that had failed due to lack of courage, it had finally been said.

 _"_ _I love you. I'm sorry."_

The look on Alfred's blue eyes had been of something Matthew had never seen before, and that look haunted his thoughts. After that, the reaction. Yelling, hate, disgust. Just as his cold, rational side had predicted. His hopeful, romantic side that had been hoping for some movie climax moment had all but given up.

Alfred hated him now, and that was a fact even Francis's words couldn't change.

Then, there was a knock on the door to distract Matthew from his self-loathing. The Canadian looked to the door, and realized it was most likely Alfred.

He didn't know if he wanted to open the door. He could just not open it, avoid all the pain and awkwardness of talking… It was a very tempting thought.

But he had already decided that avoiding and hiding the problem didn't work. So, he stood up from the bed. It proved difficult, but he still found himself standing in front of the front door. After one last hesitative thought, he opened the door.

Behind that deep blue, wooden door was Alfred. He had the hood of his wine red hoodie covering most of his face, but as he looked up to meet Matthew's eyes, his full face showed: his face was red from crying and eyes full of regret.

Neither spoke anything as Alfred entered the room, and the door was shut to separate them from the world.

Alfred didn't want to make eye contact with Matthew; he was so ashamed. Again, he had been terrible to Matthew, treated him badly and showed how he was far from his hero.

Shame.

He sat down on the armchair in Francis's room, and watched as the other sat down on the edge of the bed. Neither wanted to speak first.

"I'm sorry." Alfred then whispered, breaking the silence. And he really was; it felt like it was all his fault. If he hadn't been so illogical and fueled by emotions, nothing this bad would've happened.

"I shouldn't have said all of those things; I don't hate you. But I understand if you hate me…" Alfred continued slightly louder, voice starting to tremble a bit at the last part. He really had all the reasons to; after all, Alfred did feel all the blame on himself.

"I could never hate you." Matthew whispered back. Alfred was surprised by the words, but didn't get his hopes up yet.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better."

"I mean it. I can forgive you for the things you've said, if you can promise me the same… I hope you don't hate me now, for being so disgusting…" Matthew said in words Alfred knew too well; the self-loathing tainting the words.

"I could never, ever hate you." Alfred admitted truthfully. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like I did, I didn't mean anything I said…" Alfred said, regret rising up again. "…I don't know what went into me, I was such an idiot!" Alfred added, now angry at himself.

"You aren't an idiot." Matthew tried.

"Yes I am!" Alfred stood up. "I told you that you were disgusting, that I hated you, and that I never wanted to see you again…" He felt his voice start trembling again, and Matthew stared as he rambled on. "That was all lies. The truth is that, that…" The words suddenly got caught in Alfred's throat. Matthew looked at him questioningly, awaiting an answer.

"The truth is that… I l-love…you."

 _'_ _Wait, what?'_ Matthew asked himself.

Alfred was standing in front of him, telling him the exact opposite than he had been told.

"Huh?" Matthew asked, shocked. Alfred pondered something, before awkwardly sitting down next to Matthew on the bed. The Canadian didn't react in any way, since his mind was too busy playing Alfred saying "I love you" on repeat.

"I thought the same as you." Alfred sighed, starting to speak again. "That this was so wrong and stuff. I told that to myself every day, and thought it could never happen. And then when you told me today… I just… I just told you all the bullshit I'd been telling myself." Alfred stopped to breathe a little. Matthew was familiar with Alfred's word vomits, so he let him keep going. "Again, I'm so sorry. I drove you away, ruined my chances. But now I see it. We aren't brothers in the way humans are, and all the things holding me back were all in my head and… Fuck, I'm just really sorry." Alfred spluttered, tearing up at the very last part.

Matthew was presented with too much information. He tried to analyze everything, but it was too much for his head. He didn't know what to say.

"But I understand if you think I've already done too much. I don't deserve another chance after-"

"Shut up Alfred." Matthew suddenly spoke, making the other look straight into his eyes in shock. He suddenly knew what he needed to do. It was crystal clear; Alfred really did love him, and Matthew loved him back. It didn't have to get more complicated.

Slowly, Matthew closed the gap between them, so their lips touched.

Alfred was blasted with a million sensations. Matthew's lips were much better than the ones he would sometimes shamefully imagine; in fact, they were perfect in Alfred's opinion.

He felt like he didn't deserve this; the things he had been telling himself were still lingering in his head. But there was another voice in his head; the one he always told to shut up. The voice was singing of joy.

It was very barely a kiss, and it only lasted for a few seconds, but Alfred was very reluctant to pull away as they did. "I love you too, Alfred." Matthew whispered, bringing color to first Alfred's cheeks, but then also the Canadian's. Suddenly, everything felt like it was falling into place.

And without saying another word, the two closed the gap again.

* * *

Francis felt his smartphone buzz in his pocket, and picked it up with lighting fast reflexes. Even though he would've liked to exploit the opportunity to watch TV with Arthur "comfortingly" close, his worry for the duo surpassed it. Francis read the message and his face turned into a smile.

"What is it?" Arthur demanded to know, and Francis showed the message to the other.

 _"_ _We managed to sort it out. Remember that tag thing you told me about? Change it to "couple" ;)_

 _PS. Thank you so much, for everything._

 _~Matthew_

Francis watched Arthur react, and he seemed touched.

"Seems like it all worked out." Francis said, feeling incredibly proud. He looked at Arthur for a bit, and realized that there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Thank god, I was so worried for them…" He muttered, in a voice shaky from what seemed tears of joy. "Francis, whatever you did to help, thank you so much." Arthur then continued, wrapping his arms around the other in a way which surprised, but pleased Francis. The brit rarely, if ever, showed any emotions like this, and Francis felt like he had accomplished way more than he sought to that day.

"It's no problem, Angleterre." He replied, wrapping his arms around the other in response, to enjoy their little moment of closeness. It must have been a few decades since they last hugged, probably last time around the end of the Second World War.

Francis couldn't think of anything else than that hug for the rest of the day.

* * *

 **There we go!**

 **I kind of hope I made it clear why everyone was acting like they did, especially Alfred. And I hope the change of perspective from character to character was smooth, otherwise this gets messy.**

 **(Also Arthur being all worried about Alfred and Francis comforting him was just like the cutest thing ever, had a lot of fun writing that.)**

 **As always thanks for reading this chapter and all, and even bigger thanks if you wanna send some feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Amor Vincit Omnia, Chapter 4**

* * *

Francis didn't get to sleep long enough that night; the drama with Alfred and Matthew had severely postponed his usual sleeping routine and the Wednesday U.N meeting started early. So seated at the table "listening" to whatever Ludwig kept preaching about, he was fighting sleep.

But playing cupid seemed to be a job without breaks, and he had no time to rest since there was already another job for a cupid on the horizon.

Francis was the master of snooping around (and being capable of turning invisible certainly was helpful), but despite his best effort he couldn't find a reason why Lukas and Anders were still not together.

It wasn't hard for Francis to see the crush the Dane had for the other, and even though Lukas was far harder to read, Francis still saw the affection and caring in his often quite cold actions. And those observations were far from being the whole story; the two had known each other for a very long time and the cooperation between the two nations was still very much there. Francis didn't fail to spot some minor things; such as the fact that Anders always smiled the brightest when the Norse was around, or the long looks they exchanged.

But that list of little things was as far it got. There were never any meaningful talks, gestures of love, nothing. Francis had even spied on a conversation that the Nordics had had, and when the conversation had started to change it's subject to love, Anders and Lukas had seemed keen on changing the subject. The Dane had seemed a bit off and quiet for the rest of that conversation, and that confused Francis even more.

What was going on?

Francis wanted to know what the problem was, or if he was just seeing things between the two which weren't really there. He was planning to spy on the two excessively that day, since he hated not knowing what was up. However, the damn U.N conference was wasting his precious time.

But despite playing cupid being hard work, he could already see some results. Feliks looked far more like himself at that conference, and that odd tension radiating from him and Toris was gone. And just before the conference had begun, Francis had been just close enough to hear Heracles whisper something to Kiku about the Japanese now being a very clean kitten. That combined with Kiku's beet red face afterwards was way more than enough proof that Francis had indeed succeeded. Alfred's and Matthew's relationship status was still… _complicated_ , but Francis was still hopeful that they could sort everything out. And besides Arthur was also following their situation, so it wasn't all up to him.

All in all, Francis was quite happy with his work. But Francis couldn't be from feeling slightly envious of the couples at that room. Because when all of their relationships had been fixed by him, there was no cupid for him and Arthur. And since he was absolutely against shooting Arthur with arrows to intensify the brit's feelings towards himself, there was nothing happening between them. And despite trying to snoop around to find out if Arthur loved him, the other was the one person who was absolutely immune to his attempts of invading his privacy; his diary was locked with magic and Francis had seen zero evidence anywhere. He knew he should probably make a move someday, since he was so sick and tired with the status quo.

But that could be risky. What if Arthur wouldn't like him back that way, and the whole thing would ruin their relationship? And that was a scary thought to Francis, losing Arthur. In his lifetime he'd seen basically everyone he'd ever known die, even his closest friends. Being immortal was a curse, seeing everyone die and still see yourself almost unchanged in the reflection of the mirror every day.

But there was always Arthur.

He didn't die, he stayed. Even at their moments of harshest rivalry, Francis was always glad to see him. See someone else who knew the pain.

And while Arthur certainly wasn't his only friend, their relationship was different than Francis had with other nations. And he really, really didn't want to lose Arthur like the hundreds he'd seen die.

The fear was keeping him back.

* * *

"Well, I guess that is all for today." Ludwig announced, and the conference was declared over. Everyone basically rushed out of the building like a bunch of pupils who had just heard the recess bell ring.

But as Francis was navigating through the narrow halls to escape the lifeless building, he saw Lukas disappear to an empty little room. Normally, he wouldn't have been very interested by that, but since he was supposed to observe ( _totally not stalk)_ Lukas and Anders that day, he decided to investigate.

He rushed to the men's bathroom, and quickly changed to his cupid form in a stall. He walked through the walls like a ghost, until he reached the small room Lukas was in.

It was a little office, secluded and without any windows. Slumped on the office chair was Lukas, talking to his weird, cross-shaped headpin-phone in an angry tone.

"Stop this already. I know you are angry, but this has been going on for too long!" Lukas spoke to the phone in a hushed voice, and Francis knew he was on to something. The voice from the phone replied; "You are persistent, aren't you? But as I've told you many times over, the curse isn't breakable, and I'm not going to help you. You should just get over Anders already, since you'll never be together anyway." This seemed to anger Lukas. "But… I… I lo…" He mumbled. "I can't even say it because of this! How can you do this to me?" He snapped, and closed the phone. Then, Francis saw him broke down to tears.

Francis had never seen Lukas react so strongly. He was always so calm, so collected and so cold. But he was fully-fledged crying now, and Francis felt bad for him. But still, he had just gotten more information on the Lukas/Anders case. However, he didn't get time to even process that new info before he was interrupted.

"Hey you, invisible guy in really weird clothes." A voice suddenly called Francis from his side, and he turned to see a weird little creature which matched descriptions of a troll. A tiny, little human-like figure in quite outdated and totally out-of-fashion clothes was seated on the side of the bookshelf next to the wall.

"What the hell are you, and how do you see me?" Francis whispered back, shocked. Lukas didn't seem to notice the two, and Francis knew from experience that he could even scream in his cupid form without others noticing. But how was this little creature hearing him?

"Sigurd is my name. I'm a troll, and I see you because of like, magic." The little creature replied. "Uh, Francis. But why are you talking to me and where did you even come from?" The troll sighed. "Stop bombarding me with questions! I'm a friend of Lukas, and I came to you since he needs your help." The little troll boy replied, and Francis frowned. "Uh… okay, sure. But yeah, I'm trying to fix his and Anders's relationship, so I guess we are on the same team. So what's this he needs help with?" Francis replied.

The troll seemed to clear his throat and then spoke.

"Long ago, Lukas and Anders angered Freya, the Norse god of love. I won't give you the details, but that woman has been angry for years now. She saw how well the two got along despite not yet being a couple, and as revenge, she cast a curse on Lukas that he could never show, admit or confess his love to Anders, and vice versa. And to spice it up, neither know that the other has the curse as well, and no outsider seems to be capable of telling them that. Basically, this means both are waiting for a sign from the other to advance in their relationship since they can't tell themselves. I think you see the problem now." The troll said, and Francis had to think for a while to process the sudden flood of information.

So all along, there was no real reason why the two weren't together. It was just because of a curse by a goddess keeping them apart.

"That sounds extremely far-fetched and like one hell of a hard thing to fix. Uh, so a plan maybe?" Francis replied. "Well, she says the curse isn't breakable. But the elder trolls say that if the two cursed could overcome the power of the curse just so they could kiss, the spell would break." Francis sighed. "True love's kiss breaks the curse eh? How original... But I guess we need to get to work." He said, and the troll smirked. "We? Nah, I'm leaving this to you. If Freya gets even angrier, I don't want any of the blame." The creature said before snapping his fingers and disappearing, leaving behind a dumbfounded Francis.

Francis stared at Lukas deep in thought. Essentially, all he needed to just make Lukas and Anders kiss to break the curse. However, both were kind of being held back from that by magic, which made things complex. But Francis knew that if he could find a perfect moment, the cupid's arrows could probably surpass the force of the spell. In theory, that was. And he still needed some perfect moment, which he hadn't planned at all…

Lukas felt miserable. Every U.N meeting was perfect suffering, since even though he could watch Anders smile or talk for hours, it always reminded him that he could never tell Anders.

Tell him that Lukas loved him.

Before the curse, Lukas had been waiting for some sign from the Dane. Some sign that they could be more than friends, since he hadn't had nearly enough courage back then to tell himself. But there had never been any sign, no confession.

Then, the curse changed everything. Oh, how he regretted not being brave enough to tell before! Now, he couldn't even write down on paper his feelings, yet alone talk to someone about them. They were stuck only in his head, driving him slowly away from sanity.

He just needed to know the truth; yes or no? Did Anders really have feelings for him?

Maybe he was really just not interested. Maybe, Lukas was just wrong and foolish not to let go already. Maybe Freya really did have a point…

But he just couldn't.

He'd tried to forget, tried to move on with his life… but he couldn't.

Couldn't forget the smiles.

Couldn't forget that sweet, innocent obliviousness.

Couldn't forget… Anders.

Every time he met the Dane, he felt hope. Hope that maybe this was the day he finally would speak up, say _something_ , anything. He'd tried himself a few times, to tell. But the words wouldn't leave his mouth, he couldn't gesture with his actions what he so desperately wanted to tell.

Every time they met, the hope always died. There hadn't ever been anything from Anders that could have signaled feelings to either direction, just that friendly face.

He just wanted something to happen, he was so tired of waiting…

* * *

Francis glanced at his hotel room clock. He was running out of time!

He had returned from the U.N headquarters an hour ago, and still hadn't come up with a good plan. Where should they meet? How would he trick them there? How would he orchestrate the kiss?

He was running out of ideas quickly, and even his extensive collection of romance novels and books had no inspiration to offer him.

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. Francis opened the door, wanting to find out just who was disturbing his important thinking.

"Francis, good to see you!" Tino greeted him, with his regular cheerful smile. He wasn't the only one at the door though; with him was the rest of the Nordics, including Lukas and Anders. "Bonjour." Francis replied shortly, eyeing the Dane and Nord, analyzing them. "We were going to go for a trip today, the five of us. There's this amusement park on the outskirts of the city where we were planning to go to, but the map we have is all written in French. So uh, could you help us with this?" Tino said, giving the map to Francis.

Francis saw his chance. An amusement park was an okay location, and if Lukas and Anders were already heading there, it was worth a shot.

"Oh, I know that place. Let me just circle it on the map… there." Francis said, pointing to a red circle he had drawn on the map. "Just show that to a taxi driver." He then continued, handing back the map. Tino smiled. "Thanks, we need to get going now!" He said before closing the door and heading off with the rest of his friends.

Francis waited for about fifteen minutes till he put his plan into operation, so the Nordics wouldn't notice that he'd be coming along as well. He left his room and hailed a taxi to the amusement park, excited that he had been presented with such a lucky coincidence.

The amusement park wasn't very full; partly because of the cloudy weather, but also because of its distant location and the fact that Disneyland Paris attracted most of the tourists from other amusement parks.

Francis didn't bother paying the absurd fee for the park; instead, he transformed to his cupid/ghost-form in a toilet like before that day. He walked along the paths, searching for the Nordics. The park was quite big, so Francis was relieved to finally locate all of them eating cotton candy at a bench. Francis decided to observe the situation first, and then see how things would progress.

Anders lazily tore a piece of the fluffy pink sugar and stuffed it into his mouth. He didn't feel like eating, but did anyway. He had to seem normal to the others, even though inside he was far from feeling normal.

His perfect problem was seated next to him, not even bothering to eat his cotton candy. Anders was worried for Lukas; every day they met he seemed a bit weirder. But it wasn't as if he had any right to be talking; he was being weird himself, and it was just a matter of time till the others would start asking questions.

He never should've angered Freya. He remembered so clearly the rage in her eyes, and the yelling. Then, a few days later, she appeared to him when he was alone. That _bitch_ cast her little spell, and now Anders could never confess to Lukas his feelings. The even more annoying thing was that he couldn't tell anyone else either; not of his feelings nor of the curse.

It was horrid, the isolation. Not being able to talk with anyone about problems was a big thing to him, since he was so social. The secret he always carried with him carved him from the inside, and no matter how many times he'd try to express it in some way, it was always stuck in his head.

He always tried to fight it. Try to open his mouth, try to speak to Lukas. But he couldn't. He tried to write it down, but his hand wouldn't move. He would try to even say it, all alone somewhere. But no, it never happened, not even the quietest whisper left his throat.

Of all the things he'd ever wanted, none came close to the hope of someday the curse breaking. He'd tried to contact Freya a few times, to negotiate. But she'd never be willing to talk, she was still upset to say the least.

The Dane was becoming depressed. How long would this go on? Forever? Could it really be that he'd never be able to tell Lukas how he feels? Anders felt like he had the right to know if Lukas returned his feelings or not, the uncertainty was horrible. Even if Lukas didn't love him back, he just needed to know. Before the curse he'd tried to tell a few times, but chickened at the last second. Now, if it meant he would get an answer, he would scream.

But it was too late, and he hated himself for not having the courage to talk with Lukas before. His mind couldn't stop playing the fantasies were they would be together, go on little trips, walk along beaches, lay on the grass and most importantly, kiss.

But every day, it seemed more and more like that was never to be. Besides, surely Lukas would have spoken up already if he felt the same? The thought that he really could love him back seemed farther and farther fetched every day.

"Anders, you seem awfully quiet today." Berwald spoke, and because he spoke so rarely, it got everyone's attention. "Yeah, is something wrong?" Tino continued in a worried tone.

Lukas eyed the situation. It was true, he seemed off. The Dane mumbled some obvious lie about being tired, and Lukas was suspicious. He didn't comment on the dishonest answer however. He did eye the other, trying to figure out what was wrong.

But looking at Anders's unusually sad expression, he realized how he missed seeing him cheerful. He was always so positive, always there to cheer him up. And even when Lukas hadn't been exactly fair to him, he was quick to forgive.

So sweet, so kind.

And Lukas found it a lot easier to talk with Anders, easier than anyone else. And even though the Dane would sometimes start to blabber about something, it was never not interesting to listen to.

And even though you shouldn't fall for someone for looks alone, Anders was handsome to say the least. That wild blonde hair and face always attracted looks wherever they went, and Lukas couldn't help but feel slightly protective of Anders. Of course, he was by no means his, but that didn't stop him. And he felt envy; those people could just openly say how attractive and charming he was, unlike Lukas, who couldn't really compliment him too much because of the curse.

It was _so_ unfair.

"Hey, the line to the rollercoaster is short now!" Tino suddenly exclaimed. "We should go!" He said, jumping from his seated position, Emil soon following, pretending he wasn't hyped to go. Berwald stood up without a single emotion visible from him, and that left only Lukas and Anders seated.

"I don't feel like going there." Lukas replied shortly. Indeed; the loop which the rollercoaster contained seemed too extreme for him. "Me neither." Anders added, surprising everyone, since he usually liked to go to every ride possible. Nobody commented on it though, and the three going to the rollercoaster disappeared from sight.

Francis thought this was his chance to act; the two were alone now. But then again, it was possible they wouldn't really have a "moment" at this rate.

"Well, if we aren't going to the rollercoaster, maybe somewhere else?" Lukas suggested, and while Anders really didn't feel like going, he couldn't say no to Lukas. Because even though he couldn't manifest his feelings quite as clearly as he'd like, that didn't stop him from being at least nice.

"Sure. Where would you like to go?" Anders replied. "Well, I don't like the extreme rides, so the Ferris wheel?" Lukas answered, and Anders didn't see a reason why not to go. "Let's get going then." He said, gathering his stuff and heading to the general direction of the Ferris wheel.

Francis observed the two as they walked. The Ferris wheel could give them that little moment they needed, but there was not a lot of time. So, as the two Nordics sat down on their little gondola, Francis hopped on as well.

Anders eyed the surrounding park as they soared upwards. To look at the pretty surroundings, but also to look at something else than just Lukas.

But he couldn't stop himself from looking at him every now and then, just quick glances. He'd seen Lukas so many times before, but every single time, he never ceased to look cute. Anders would've liked to blabber about the color of the other's eyes, but apparently the curse recognized that as a gesture of love. So, he was just incapable of talking about it.

"So, what do you think about Paris? I mean we've been here a few times before, but I only now think I've seen enough of it to really have an opinion, it's such a big city." Anders spoke, trying to avoid awkward silence.

"Well I think it's a beautiful city, but maybe a bit crowded for my taste." Lukas said, and after a little pause added; "And it has a weird atmosphere, it's oddly romantic."

Anders was a bit taken aback by that, since Lukas was basically always unromantic, and never ever took love as a subject to talk of. "You're right, this is a romantic city." He said, agreeing.

Francis like the direction their talk was drifting to, and felt as if luck was just spoiling him with chances to start playing cupid. However he wanted to actually get involved into the action, not just watch on the sidelines; after all, it was supposed to be his job to sort out relationships, not leave it on luck. Right then, doing his job would mean buying time for the two, and that could be achieved by stopping the Ferris wheel.

That's when he got an idea.

The operator of the machine was sitting at a panel at the ground, pushing a button every now and then to move and stop the machine. Her duty seemed to be stopping the machine so that everyone on the Ferris wheel could have a little moment at the very top of the ride, and Francis knew his theory was right as the gondola he and the two Nordics were in stopped at the very peak of the ride.

This would require some serious archery skills.

Francis moved to the edge of the gondola and looked down; he almost backed off seeing the huge drop, but got a hold of himself the last second. He quickly took his bow and loaded it with an arrow, aiming right at the woman operating the machine. Francis looked around her for a little bit, trying to find a suitable target. He then saw a man, and decided he would do.

He aimed carefully, and then released the arrow. The gold-tipped arrow soared through the skies, plummeting down at incredible speed before meeting its target's head. The woman jolted weirdly, and Francis would have celebrated his archery skills if he hadn't been in such a hurry. He loaded another arrow, and luckily managed to hit the man he had chosen with an arrow as well.

He raised his bow in victory as he saw the two. The man seemed to hesitate, but then came to talk with the woman. She didn't seem to mind, and forgot all about her panel as she chatted with the man.

Now this meant more time.

"I've just never understood what makes it have such an atmosphere, there doesn't seem to be one major thing." Lukas mumbled, looking around. Being at the very top of the wheel meant they had a great view of the city, and he thought he could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

"I think it's always been the Eiffel Tower." Anders replied, making Lukas drift his gaze back to the other's eyes. "How come?" Lukas asked.

"I don't really know either. But I visited this city a few times before it was built, and the atmosphere back then was different. Many said when it was built that it looked terrible, but I've always liked it." Anders said.

Lukas turned to look at the far-away metal structure he thought was the tower, and then felt it as well. There really was something special to it, a type of energy.

"It really is beautiful, I think we can even see it from here." Lukas mumbled, and pointed to the direction of the Iron Lady. Anders turned to look at it as well, and it suddenly felt romantic in the most cliché way possible. Lukas almost smiled at the thought.

But seriously; two people, in Paris, looking at the Eiffel Tower... Now all they needed to make a cheesy romance movie was champagne. But however cliché it would be, if it weren't for the curse he probably would have tried a kiss by now. It was too perfect; the moment.

And yet nothing happened as they sat on opposite sides of the gondola, looking out to the tower. Lukas was used to this however; this is how it had been for years now.

No amount of clichés or romance seemed to be even slightly enough to break free from the curse's grasp, and at that moment Lukas didn't even try to fight back. After all, he knew the outcome already.

Right?

The two slowly drifted their gaze back from the city. Anders felt the romantic atmosphere there and then, after all this was the kind of romantic moment of love every movie and book always told about.

But the curse made sure to keep that kind of a moment from happening, and Anders felt sadness engulf him. Why did this have to happen to him? It was so unfair; at least everyone else could ask their crush or love what they felt back, at least everyone else could get an answer if they really were to want so.

But he seemed condemned to guessing and uncertainty, condemned to never be able to have a "moment".

And as he met the other's eyes he protested once again. He tried to move, tried to get closer…

But none of that was happening, and as he noticed how useless his trying was, he felt tears at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't take it anymore; the feeling of having his love for someone forever locked to only his head was now manifesting its right to be known through other feelings, mostly hopelessness and sadness. And of course, this was happening at the worst possible time since Lukas was right there.

"Anders, what is it?" Lukas asked, noticing the other's tears. Anders cursed at himself as he realized he was in fact crying in front of Lukas, showing how broken he really was.

"It's nothing." Anders managed to calm his voice down, but then immediately felt tears again. Lukas frowned. "How dumb do you think I am? You've been acting so strange for a while now, and you keep avoiding the question!" He snapped, ruining any romantic atmosphere in the air. Anders's eyes lit up with anger as well. It wasn't because he was really angry at Lukas, but at himself. If in every single love story love could beat every obstacle, then why couldn't he still beat the curse? Was he just too weak, his love not good enough? Was he not good enough for Lukas?

He was supposed to argue something back at Lukas, but the words got lost somewhere in the sadness and crying. In defeat, he slumped back down to his seat.

"Anders." The Dane heard his name and a touch on his shoulder. "I'm worried for you, please just… tell me if I can help." Lukas mumbled, and Anders found the courage to look up.

Looking back at him were two deep blue eyes, but not in their usual, cold and distant look, but one of caring.

Anders kept eye contact for a while, trying to find something to say.

"I…" Anders managed to mutter, and shocked himself how he managed to say even the first word of what he really wanted to tell at that moment.

Francis looked at the two, and loaded an arrow. His mind raced; this could be it!

Lukas was lost in the other's eyes. He tried to look away but found that the larger portion of him didn't want to ever look away. Anders was right there, seated right in front of him. He really just wanted to sit on the other's lap, kiss him senseless…

He wasn't thinking straight at that moment. Something was clearly wrong with Anders, and there he was, fantasizing about kissing when he should be focusing on the obvious. What a friend he was…

"I just…" Anders mumbled again. "You can tell me anything." Lukas said, as he sat down next to the other. He didn't let go of the other's shoulder at any point, fearing he wouldn't be able to touch him again.

He sat down next to him, and felt thrilled for being so close. But again, he hated himself for bringing his feelings to the mix again. He was Anders's friend, and he was supposed to help the other at that moment with any life problems he might be encountering.

"The thing is that I…I…" Anders muttered, making Lukas wonder what the hell could be so wrong that a person like Anders would hesitate to say it.

Francis let go of his bowstring.

Anders felt some inexplicable rush of courage and a ton of other feelings, and turned to face the person they were directed towards. Deep blue eyes looked back in shock at his sudden reaction.

Another gold-tipped arrow met its target, and Francis watched the two observingly. It was so close to happening, just the slightest push…

Lukas wanted it so much, he moved his face closer to the others just because he felt he could.

The third arrow hit the Dane, and it was all it took. Francis watched as Anders moved just slightly forwards, making his and Lukas's lips touch ever so slightly.

Time seemed to freeze for the slightest moment. Lukas was looking directly into the other's eyes, and vice versa. Both eyes were wide in shock.

" _No way is this happening."_ Both Nordics thought at the same time.

Out of shock, both pulled away quickly. Anders looked at the other dumbfounded, incapable of saying anything. Had they really just kissed? It had been very barely even one, but that little touching of lips was all he could even think of.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Because if they could kiss, maybe he could say or do something else, too?

"I love you." Anders whispered to test his theory, and surprised himself by the fact that he could even say it. Lukas's face was indescribable by words, mouth just slightly open in shock.

"I…love you too." Lukas muttered almost instantly afterwards, and both realized that the curse was no longer there at the same time.

Lukas felt as if he could faint at any moment, but was trying with all his power pull himself together. However the feelings and emotions were pulling him in all directions, his head replaying Anders's "I love you" and the kiss without end. He felt tears of happiness emerge, and didn't bother trying to stop them.

Anders looked at the other, and wrapped his arms around him. It had been _so long_ since they'd last hugged, and Anders felt tears of joy in the corners of his eyes. Oh, how he had been waiting for this.

Waiting to be so close to the other, hear his soft breath and feel the warmth of another person…

It was unreal, dreamy, and he felt happiness unlike anything he'd felt before.

Francis smiled as he observed the two. His job seemed more than done there, and he looked down to the operating panel. To his surprise, there was no one there to operate the Ferris wheel, and the woman was happily walking along with the man Francis had shot before.

Well, at least they now had time…

Anders and Lukas didn't even seem to notice how long they stayed up there, talking endlessly on how they'd both been cursed and how it had hurt, and how everything was so amazing and dreamy. Francis felt like a total third wheel, like he was ruining their moment even though they had no idea he was there.

And through it all he still felt envy. He wanted to kiss Arthur at the top of a Ferris wheel looking at the Eiffel Tower as well!

But at his case, the only curse was in his head, the only real thing holding him back being fear. It made him feel weak, seeing the two. They'd been presented with even worse odds, and yet they still had conquered the obstacles presented by the curse. And while Francis was there to help, in the end, it was always all up to them being strong and courageous.

Did this mean Francis was too weak, too weak to fix his own problems, too weak to finally tell Arthur? He was good at fixing other people's relationships, but yet his own love life was in need of some magical cupid.

It was ironic in a sad way.

And once they finally did get back to the ground, unlike Anders and Lukas, he wasn't quite as chirper. In fact, he felt as if he needed a glass of wine. He changed back to his human form, and as he waited for a taxi in the rain which had started just as they had gotten down from the Ferris wheel, he felt sad.

But he tried to push it away, telling himself how he should be happy that some had just gotten a new chance, a new start. And proud because he was the one behind it all.

Yet all along, it never really had occurred to him just how much of a substitute playing cupid had become to actually worrying about his own love life. And reality hurt as he realized this.

After reaching his hotel room, he sat down onto his bed. He was just about to reach for the phone to call room service for a glass of wine and something to eat, but he noticed an envelope on his bed.

It was a pure white envelope, with fancy golden letters which read;

 _To Francis._

Francis frowned and picked it up to observe it. He opened it slowly to reveal a letter.

 _Hello._

 _It has come to my attention that you have defied my will that Lukas and Anders mustn't be together. I have to congratulate you on the fact that you actually managed to break my curse, it requires some skill._

 _But do not think this won't have consequences, Francis. I would be regretting my actions right now if I were to be you._

 _Regards,_

 _Freya_

* * *

 **Phew. That's one long chapter, and I do hope you liked it.**

 **The addition of a Norse goddess and a troll might have caused a few raised eyebrows, but I hope I still didn't drag too much fantasy into this for this chapter to feel out-of-place.**

 **Tell me if the transition from character to character is understandable, I think it may seem a bit messy to some.**

 **Feedback and criticism is very welcome!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh look, a new chapter from me! It's a Halloween miracle, folks. Seriously though, I should update this regularly...**

* * *

 **Amor Vincit Omnia, Chapter 5**

* * *

Francis couldn't think of anything else that night than Freya's threat of consequences. Every horrid situation, every last fear crossed his mind. He'd pissed off people before and faced revenge, but people and nations still had limits to their powers and nobody exactly wanted to ruin his life.

Freya was very different, because she had the power to make life a living hell for Francis and the people he cared for most. And because Francis could just feel the anger that the letter had been written with, she probably would put that power to use…

Fear made its way to his dreams and thoughts, but never regret. He knew he'd done the right thing, made the right choice. He hadn't just taken into consideration the consequences of his actions…

Francis slept uneasy, but still felt at least somewhat rested when Thursday morning came. That was good, since the meeting that day would be the longest all week. Because on the next day, Friday, the conference would end sooner to make time for the party celebrating the end of the week of U.N meetings. Francis was supposed to be the host of the party, and he hadn't even begun on the preparations.

Stress and worry were the two major things on his mind as he ate breakfast along with the other nations at the hotel lobby. He was supposed to do a lot on that day and even more on Friday, and the addition of Freya messing with his plans were slowly driving him to his limit.

And just as he thought he'd listed everything he would have to do and worry about, he saw Arthur sit down on the opposite side of his little round table.

"Morning." The brit sighed as he sat down, and Francis muttered back a casual reply. Francis felt suddenly better when Arthur was near him, and the hope that maybe it could all work out for the best.

"I was wondering if we could go to the Louvre today, I came to ask you about it yesterday but you weren't here." Arthur said, stirring his coffee. Francis mentally slapped himself in the face as he remembered his promise to go see it someday. "I'm terribly sorry Angleterre, but I'm in such a rush with the party and everything I doubt I'd have the time…" Francis replied, and while Arthur seemed to try hide it, he saw the disappointment in the other's eyes.

"I understand. It's just about those new paintings they recently got, the artist was a friend of mine…" Arthur sighed. Francis knew the paintings he was talking about, he'd known the woman as well. "I'm sure Mary's paintings will still be there another time." Francis said, trying to smile a bit. Arthur didn't even try to. "Mary was such a nice person, always there to cheer me up… and she didn't even reject me as she found out I wasn't all that human." Francis killed his attempted smile when the memories hit him. "It's weird to think it's already been over two hundred years…" He sighed.

They were quiet for a while, both eating breakfast as Francis surfed down memory lane. It somehow felt like his duty, to remember all those friendly people and their faces. To keep them alive in his mind, to not let time take them.

But despite his best attempts, Mary's face was quite blurry in his memories. It was tragic.

"And she is definitely not the only person I knew who has paintings there." Arthur continued, only worsening Francis's pain. Names popped up in his head; Alexandre, Hortense, Jacques…

And their faces were, more or less, blurry.

All those friends were now gone, and memories of them were all what was left. And those memories became a little more unclear each passing day, some minor things already fully forgotten.

But one friend was still there, looking at him from the other side of the table. One just as immune to time as Francis, whose face was still here with beautiful clarity.

"It's so weird seeing their paintings… it's so nostalgic and kind of sad really…" Arthur spoke again. Francis hated the sadness in Arthur's eyes, but realized he probably had the same look at that moment.

"But I guess Mary would be happy for us to see her paintings after all these years." Francis tried to cheer the conversation, earning the best prize he knew; Arthur's smile.

"She would be."

* * *

After the surprisingly melancholic breakfast, Francis took the bus to the U.N Headquarters, not feeling like taking a taxi again. H.Q was mostly empty as he arrived, since the bus schedule didn't quite suit the one of the conference.

He sat down to his regular spot on the long negotiation table, and scanned around. Only a handful of nations were present; Switzerland (as always), China, Hungary, Austria and Germany, to be exact.

Nobody was talking to anyone, instead everyone's face was studying either a book or, if they were more with the times, a smartphone screen. Francis didn't really like smartphones or tablets or anything like them; they kept people further away from each other and from having real conversations. So instead, he picked up his latest romance novel, _Invisible Rain_.

But something was clearly wrong as he opened the page he had left off at. The pages were blank, with only one line of text on each page. The text was the same on every page Francis frantically turned, and it read;

" _Consequences."_

The font was similar to the one used in the letter he'd found, and Francis knew who was behind this.

Francis took a deep breath to try calm himself down and avoid freaking out, and closed the book with a sigh. This wasn't a good sign, not at all.

The meeting turned out to be just like the ones before it, but even longer and even more boring. So boring, that even Ludwig seemed to lose interest towards the end of it. To Francis it had been just wasted time; time, which he could've used to plan things better and prepare for the party. Or actually go to the Louvre with Arthur, like he had promised weeks ago.

Nevertheless, the meeting finally came to an end around 17:30. Francis didn't even remember what had been decided, if anything at all. But none of that mattered now; he needed to get back to the hotel to prepare the hotel's dance hall, or whatever the massive hall was used for anyway, for the party. It was an enormous task, too much for just him. So, he had actually asked some of the hotel staff for help. Being the awesome hotel that the place was, they were happy to help with the décor and other things.

When he first planned the party a few months back, he had been really excited for an opportunity to host one for all the nations of earth. It seemed really epic, but in hindsight, a massive overestimation of his ability to commit and a ton of work and expenses.

Still, as he supervised and helped with the project, he did see how it would truly be a grand occasion. The hall was full of balloons and ribbons and fancy decorations, flags of different countries and the U.N logo every there and there. The theme was multiculturalism and co-operation, and it did show in many things. For instance, he'd helped to design the menu for the buffet the week before, and had made sure to include as many traditional foods from around the world (except from England, because their food was terrible).

All in all, the party seemed to be coming along well. The time flew by as he and his makeshift team created a fine scene for a party, a result Francis was quite proud of.

* * *

After his herculean effort, he felt as if he deserved a fine dinner. After all, he had had to eat in his hotel room for the past few days because of his tight schedule. So even though his watch alarmed him of the numbers 21:35, it didn't stop him from leaving the hotel.

As he stepped out of the glass doors to the cool evening of Paris, he already knew where he'd eat; Restaurant _Lis._

Francis liked many restaurants in Paris, however he had a special connection with a few of them. One of them was _Lis_ , because the manager and head chef of the restaurant, Louis Charron, was the great-great-great-grandson of Amélie Charron, whom Francis used to know very well. She had been an extraordinary cook, and her signature onion soup was still something Francis missed dearly. The _Lis_ claimed to have her original recipe for it, and Francis did agree that their version tasted very similar, but it still wasn't quite the same.

As he stepped inside the art deco-style building, he saw almost empty tables. He hadn't been suspecting a massive crowd at this time of the day, but it seemed awfully quiet and empty inside the restaurant, except for the dull old jazz being played from the stereos.

Well, until that silence was broken.

"Francis?" A voice called. It sounded weirdly familiar, almost like-

"It is you!" Antonio stood up so Francis could see him, and waved at him, gesturing for Francis to join him at his table. Francis, who hadn't been too enthusiastic about eating alone anyway, happily obliged. He and Antonio got a few weird looks from the few people actually there for breaking the atmosphere, but Francis didn't really care.

Once at the table, he discovered that Antonio hadn't actually been alone at the restaurant.

"Ciao." Lovino muttered in his signature annoyed voice, and dropped his gaze to the menu from Francis.

Francis smiled. Antonio and Lovino were a breath of fresh air to him, partly because Antonio was an old friend, but also because he and Lovino were actually in an established relationship without all the complex drama he'd seen for a few days.

Only a handful of nations were "officially" together besides Antonio and Lovino; Ludwig & Feliciano and Berwald & Tino. Although, if Francis's plan were to go well, that amount of pairs should get a few new names.

Francis sat down next to the two and took a menu from an empty table next to them, although he was already quite certain what he would order. But as he opened it, he flinched.

" _Consequences."_

That, written in massive white letters with an all-too familiar old cursive, was all that was on the menu.

He slammed the menu shut, and Antonio looked as if he was going to say something about it, but a waitress interrupted them to take their orders. Francis was thankful; he really didn't need Antonio worrying about him now.

But he was getting a little anxious. Consequences, consequences… but what would they be? Was Freya watching him?

He chatted idly with Antonio, to distract himself, but to no avail. What if the consequences wouldn't hit him, but someone he cared about? He'd never forgive himself if his actions would hurt someone like Antonio and Francis's other friends, or Alfred and Matthew. Or Arthur, _especially_ Arthur.

Then it hit him, the realization of just what could happen. He'd seen what Freya had done to Anders and Lukas, and he knew she could do much, much worse things if she wanted.

He ate his onion soup slowly, unsure what he was supposed to do once he had finished it. Go sleep? It seemed like the last thing he wanted to do.

"Excuse me, I need the men's room." Antonio said and left, leaving Lovino and Francis at the table. To the Frenchman's surprise, total silence didn't ensue.

"Listen, Francis. I'm not as blind as tomato bastard is, and something is wrong with you." Francis was taken aback, but just nodded very slightly in agreement, not seeing the point of denying it. "I'm not gonna pry about it, but go talk about it to someone else than us. Antonio has been acting so weirdly lately, and whatever it is, he doesn't need more things on his mind." Lovino finished, with a totally serious face.

Normally, Francis would've teased how protective of Antonio Lovino seemed to be, but he dropped it. "I see, I don't want to make things worse for him either. Maybe it's for the best I leave then." Francis said, rising from his seat. It's not like he really had wanted to stay anyway, his mind was somewhere else. As he opened the glass doors to leave, he looked back one last time, to see Lovino deep in thought.

' _He really is worried about him.'_ Francis thought, smiling a little. It was rare to see Lovino like that, all worried and caring.

After that thought, he turned away and left.

* * *

"I'm back! Hey, where did Francis go?" Antonio asked as he waltzed back from the bathroom. "He said he had to go somewhere, didn't even pay for his food, the bastard." Lovino lied effortlessly, although it wasn't _entirely_ a lie. Antonio actually looked happy hearing that, for whatever reason. "It's alright, his soup wasn't expensive anyway." He spoke as he sat down. Lovino raised a brow, but didn't hang on to the subject.

"Your desserts." A waitress said and gave them two plates covered with metallic covers, and unveiled, on Antonio's side, a fancy crème brûlée, and on Lovino's side, a juicy, red, fresh tomato.

"What the hell, we didn't even order dessert!" Lovino said to the waitress, but she ignored him.

Lovino looked at his tomato in disbelief, and then at Antonio's shit-eating grin, and just _knew_ already. "Fuck you." Lovino said, not really caring how the bastard felt at that very moment. Antonio was totally unaffected by the words, and calmly took a spoonful of his dessert.

Lovino was _this close_ to throwing the Spaniard with the tomato, but realized that it would be a waste of a fine tomato. Feeling defeated, he quickly took a bite of the tomato.

Except, that unlike normally, his teeth didn't sink in. Instead, he had tried to take a bite out of hard plastic. Antonio started laughing hysterically, and Lovino shot him a look which would have made children cry. "I hate you." Lovino muttered as he inspected the "tomato", his cheeks burning red in embarrassment. He was _so_ going to regret that, the bastard.

But then, as he was thinking of hundreds of ways to make Antonio regret ever messing with him, he noticed something weird about the plastic tomato. It had a line in the middle of it, showing that it was actually made of two parts. Lovino looked at Antonio suspiciously, who was still laughing, before pulling the tomato's top part off.

As he took it off, he noticed that the tomato was hollow. Not entirely, only from the very center. And inside this hollow part, a small ring. Lovino's eyes went wide, and he looked at Antonio. He'd stopped laughing, and now had a serious, but unsure face.

Oh.

 _Oh._

So this was what Antonio had been so worried about.

"Romano... I really love you, everything about you and-"

Lovino had slammed a hand over the other's mouth. "No speeches, b-bastard. I get what you're asking." Antonio looked at the other, whose face was almost as red as the fake tomato. He took a hold of Lovino's hand and moved it so he could speak again. He didn't let go before kissing the other's hand though, and grinned. Lovino was totally speechless for a few moments, before regaining some sort of composure and an attempt of a frown, which didn't quite work.

"Well okay, no beating around the bush then. Romano, will you marry me?"

Everyone in the restaurant was watching them, but Lovino only cared about the one across the table. So many thoughts raced inside his head, but he knew there was only one answer to Antonio's question.

"No way in hell."

Antonio's face lost all color, and after a moment of total silence, it was Lovino's turn to laugh.

"You totally though I was serious! Serves you right for that tomato trick. But alright, sure, let's get married."

A happy, relieved sigh left Antonio and his face instantly lit up in excitement. Lovino couldn't get his face to frown, so he smiled, just slightly. Lovino took the ring and decided to examine it before putting it on. It was gold with a small, red gem. On the inner part of the ring was writing, carved in Spanish;

" _El amor lo conquista todo."_

* * *

Francis didn't really know where he was going. He was walking towards the hotel, but was he going to his room or to someone else's? And it was 22:10, quite late for a visit to anyone.

Then again, who would he visit anyway? Who could he talk to about all of this?

He sighed as he only thought of a single name.

 _Arthur Kirkland_.

But should he really? He could be forced to tell him everything, like _everything_. And he wasn't sure if he could take all that information so soon…

But he couldn't really go on alone much longer, either. So, if Francis could help Arthur during hard times, surely he could help Francis?

He felt like chickening out every step he took as he walked the narrow hotel corridors, asking him if this was _really_ necessary. But when he thought of the alternative; trying to sleep, alone in a dark room, he suddenly didn't feel like turning back either.

But just as he was about to knock, while still thinking of what he would say and where he'd even begin, a light touch took a hold of his shoulder.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice was heavily accented and foreign. And female… Francis spun round to look at a very tall blonde woman, with stern blue eyes and a flower crown. She was dressed in a white dress and something about her was… different. Then, Francis realized.

"Freya?" He spluttered very quietly. She nodded. "You are coming with me, Francis. It's about time we talked about the _consequences_ of your actions." Francis felt panic spread through him. "No, don't take me away… don't, please don't…" Freya smiled devilishly as she muttered something in Norse.

Francis suddenly felt like he was disintegrating. He looked at his legs and hands, seeing them faint into nothingness. Now he was panicking.

"ARTHUR, HELP-"He tried to yell, but Freya's hand blocked his mouth effortlessly. She smiled and Francis noticed she was slowly fading away too.

What was happening, what was the feeling Francis felt, why was Freya here, how did she get here?

Francis couldn't think straight, and felt as if he was going unconscious. The last thing he heard, or thought he heard, was Arthur yelling something.

' _How strange…'_ Was the last thing Francis thought of, before he slipped into the darkness.

* * *

 **It's a shorter chapter alright, but it's kind of a bridge chapter to the action. Also, as you can see from the gap between this and chapter 4, I might be a _little_ rusty, so I apologize if it wasn't too great.**

 **Criticism and feedback and stuff is always welcome.**

 **~ATS**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is going to get messy now...**

* * *

 **Amor Vincit Omnia, Chapter 6**

* * *

"ARTHUR, HELP-"

Arthur heard the shout and snapped his gaze from his book to the door. What was going on? Instinctively, he jumped from his comfy position on the bed, dropping his book to the floor in the process. During the few steps from the bed to the door he had many thoughts; such as the origin of the voice. It had sounded like Francis, but he wasn't quite sure. Secondly, a hesitant thought of stepping back. Who knew what would await him on the other side?

Arthur opened the door with too much force, slamming it to the side. But there were no masked people with guns, no fight.

It was Francis, fading away bit by bit. Next to him was a woman, fading away with an equal pace. She gave Arthur one look of disapproval with her cold blue eyes, before she was completely gone. Francis was just and just visible, and his face was of horror.

"Francis!" Arthur yelled without thinking, and tried to grab him.

His arms went right through him, and after one last heartbeat, Francis was gone. Arthur kept trying to touch the spot where he'd been, but there was only air to reach for. In disbelief, he looked around him. This was a joke right? A dream? Something other than reality?

Silence.

Arthur didn't know what had happened or what he was supposed to do at that moment. He leaned against a wall and slid down to a seated position, still looking around.

A pair of running footsteps came from around the corner. He turned to look at the direction of the sound, just to see Lukas and Anders rush to him.

"Arthur! We heard yelling and stuff, what's happening here?" Anders asked, speaking so quickly Arthur barely registered it. He didn't answer right away; his mind was busy replaying the moment of Francis evaporating into the air.

"I… don't know." Arthur finally mumbled, still zoned out and confused. Lukas and Anders looked at each other, confused. "You didn't see anything? Hear anything?" Anders tried again, kneeling next to Arthur to examine if he was physically ok.

Arthur told them his thoughts. "Francis yelled… then I got here, and he just started evaporating and there was this woman with blue eyes and she had this weird lookandthentheydissapeared…" Arthur spoke too quickly, at the speed of his panicking thoughts.

"Slow down." Lukas said, calmly as always. He seemed concerned, but collected unlike Anders. "You are not making any sense. How about taking a deep breath, and coming to our room. Once you've calmed down, we'll talk." The Norwegian continued, and Arthur forced himself to try and breathe.

And failed. "But… you don't understand Francis just disappeared or something and I need to knowwhereheis and-"

Lukas had, gently, placed his hand over the other's mouth. "You need to keep it together Arthur." He whispered. "Just breathe, and once we get to our room you can tell us."

Arthur nodded very gently. He looked at the spot where Francis had been, closed his eyes and took a deep breathe.

Still not there.

His legs didn't really seem to work as he was helped to the hotel room.

* * *

Arthur had to hold his cup of tea with two hands because they were shaking so much. He was seated at Lukas's bed and the two Nordics on Anders's bed (which seemed _suspiciously_ less used), so that they were facing each other. Anders looked worried, and so did Lukas (although he did manage to hide it better).

"So Arthur…" Anders mumbled, unsure how he should ask. "Could you just go over the details once more?" The brit frowned. "I've told you everything already! I heard noises outside, went to check and saw Francis and this… this weird woman fading away with him."

Lukas and Anders tried their very best to not look at Arthur like he was going insane. "This woman… what did she look like?" Lukas asked. "She was really tall, the strictest blue eyes I've ever seen, blonde hair and…" Arthur paused. "She had this weird vibe to her."

Lukas and Anders looked at each other, as if talking without talking. Then, Lukas sighed and turned to face Arthur again. "Arthur, I know that you believe in magic and all that… but do you know any Norse mythology?" The brit nodded and took a sip from his tea, which didn't seem to calm him down as usual this time. "At my age, you've read a book or two about just about anything… But I don't see the connection here."

Lukas looked as if he was readying up to tell a story.

"I assume you know of the main gods and some of the basics." Arthur nodded, now looking at Lukas as if he was the crazy one. Was he really going to give him a lecture now, of all times? Francis was missing and Arthur was only barely controlling himself from panic. He could be _anywhere_ , maybe dead…

Arthur felt as if a dagger had gone through his heart with that thought. No, that couldn't be true. It wasn't true. If it was…

How was he supposed to go on?

The Norwegian's voice brought him back from his thoughts, offering him a distraction from the mental image of Francis's funeral.

"…Very few people know that these gods are… well, mostly _were_ real." He said, analyzing Arthur for a reaction. His green eyes went wide. "Hold it right there, lad. _What?"_ He said in utter disbelief.

Lukas and Anders shared a look, before the Norwegian turned to look at Arthur again. "Yes, for very long, all the gods lived in relative harmony, working closely with the trolls of Norway. But… as people stopped believing in them, as they started becoming forgotten… Their power weakened. Then, just one sunny day… the elder trolls came to me with a message of their disappearance." He said, eyeing Arthur observingly. The brit was not convinced; not at all. Lukas just sighed and continued. "Well, all of them truly disappeared hundreds of years ago. All but one, that is." He said, his face showing a little bit of anger that only confused Arthur more.

"Freya." Anders mumbled with a threating voice, and Lukas nodded. "You probably remember her as the goddess of love. Well, for some reason, she just wouldn't go anywhere. She is nearly immortal, like us, and slowly was driven to insanity by loneliness and time." Lukas sighed, as a small pause. "The high council of trolls tried to keep contact with her and help; but she shut the communications long ago. And to top it off… a few decades ago I received word that she had regained her powers. I got to experience her might firsthand…" He looked at Anders who knew what he was talking about, and continued. "She is a huge threat to everyone."

Arthur looked with wide eyes at the two Nordics. He didn't understand how they could both look _so_ serious while talking of a ridiculous fairytale.

"So you are telling me there is an _insane_ goddess wreaking havoc with her powers?" He said with skepticism. Lukas nodded.

Arthur's face was blank for a few moments. This was a dream right? _Right?_ Nowhere else than in dreams did something so weird happen. He pinched himself. And another time, only harder.

He was not waking up from this strange, horrible nightmare. He sank from the edge of the bed to the floor, not knowing what he was supposed to be doing.

"Arthur… I think that the best explanation is that Francis has been captured by her." Lukas said, but Arthur had already thought of something along those lines. He didn't believe it. He didn't believe any of it; he didn't want to.

"This is insanity!" He exclaimed in frustration. "I mean I've felt magic, seen magical creatures and trolls… But this is just a step too far. I'm afraid I can't believe you two." Arthur said, moving his teacup in his hand so that the brown liquid swirled. It offered just a little bit of a distraction.

Lukas sighed, and Anders looked at him hopelessly. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we're speaking the truth, honest!" Anders tried to say, but Arthur wasn't buying it. "Alright then." Lukas said as he stood up. "If you don't believe me…" He paused as he opened the lowest drawer of the bedside cabinet and took out a box. It was the most basic, small cardboard box which didn't draw much attention. But Lukas reached into it and took out an object. "This might change your mind."

Arthur dropped his teacup as he saw what Lukas had just unveiled.

* * *

Francis woke to the light chirper of birds. As he opened his eyes, just a little, he was blinded with sunlight.

As he quickly closed his eyes to avoid going blind, he started remembering things. Him disappearing into nothingness, Freya's devilish smile and Arthur's yelling, although he wasn't quite sure if he had just imagined that part.

"Ah, looks like you're awake."

That voice… Francis instantly recognized it, fearfully opening his eyes to see exactly who he thought he'd see.

Freya was standing next to him, but wasn't looking his way. Instead, she gazed somewhere deep in thought, as if she had spaced out. Then, without warning, her cold eyes snapped back to stare at Francis.

"Get up." It wasn't a suggestion, but a command. Francis, who still was quite dizzy from whatever he had just experienced, shakily stood up.

He didn't understand where he was. There was soft grass under his feet, the scent of flowers lingering in the air, and clear blue sky above him. It was a meadow of some sort, stretching out as long as the eye could see.

"Where… am I?" Francis muttered, standing up straight but still being shorter than Freya. The goddess smiled. "This is Fólkvangr. It's my home, and also like my kingdom of sorts. I rule here."

Francis took another look around. It really was quite beautiful.

"But enough of that." Freya said with a threatening voice and killed her smile effortlessly. Francis flinched; something was clearly a bit wrong about her. Then, she spoke. "You know what you've done wrong, messing around with people's love lives as if you were some sort of god. Francis, _I_ am in charge here, the only goddess here. So as your first lesson…" She raised her hand and then slapped Francis so hard he fell down. "YOU WILL RESPECT ME!" She yelled, making the nation shake in fear.

Francis didn't want to get up, but he knew Freya would make him get up if he didn't. So, he stood up rubbing his sore cheek. He gave Freya the meanest look he could muster, but the look which the goddess gave back made the Frenchman shiver.

"Now, say it or I will hit you harder." Freya demanded, and fearing what would happen if he refused, he spoke;

"I-I respect you. You are right, you are the only goddess of love here." Francis looked at her, praying she would accept the answer. She pondered for a bit, but then gave him a sadistic sort of smile.

"You learned quickly. Now that that's out of the way, we can start discussing the real effects of your little games. You see, everything was going as I intended until you came waltzing in with your little cupid powers. At first it was only irritating, but then when you started using it on nations, and specifically Lukas and Anders, I realized you really don't get it." Francis's eyes went wide. Get what? Was there something he hadn't considered?

"So lesson number two; SOME PEOPLE JUST MUSTN'T BE TOGETHER!" She yelled furiously, and slapped Francis even harder, making him fall again. He felt tears at the corners of his eyes. Freya roared on. "I usually give people freedom with their love choices, but you nations are an exception. Your love is my, and _only_ my business!" She said, kicking Francis once, although lightly, with her bare feet. It hurt like hell, and Francis yelped in pain.

"You see, I like to see things unfold how I like. I love the drama, the feelings. But normal people are just no fun; they live so short lives and they have a nasty habit of killing themselves if I play too roughly. That's why you nations are so perfect; I have all the time in the world to orchestrate whatever I want. And now, with you out of the picture, I'm going to start _hell_ for some- no, scrap that- _all_ of them." Freya said, and as Francis dared to look at her, he noticed her eyes had turned glowing red and her smile demonic.

"But…" Francis muttered, weakly and afraid of Freya. "You're the goddess of love! You're supposed to start and maintain relationships, help people-"He was cut off by another kick into his stomach.

"Third lesson." Freya said with an icy voice. "Never, ever tell me what to do."

Francis didn't get it. Was she insane? A total psychopath?

"You see, to control love, one must also control hate. I'm going to use both to get your little friends to do _just_ as I want. I crave total control of my little dollhouse."

' _Dollhouse?'_ Francis didn't even know how to react to what she had called him and his friends. Those were real nations, with real emotions and desires…

And Freya wanted full control of all of the complexity, all of the feelings, for her sick pleasure?

"You're insane." Francis whispered, but deliberately loud enough for her to hear. She smiled. "I don't think so. Can't you see, that deep down, I'm doing all of this for love?"

Francis didn't understand. What 'love'?

"You call... forcing people to feel something towards each other love? It's only love if both are doing it of their own free will!" Freya chuckled. "Haven't you been doing the same thing?"

Francis went quite for a little while, but then fired back. "My arrows only intensify existing feelings, they can't force love! Besides, I've carefully planned out this, made sure the people in question actually want this."

Freya turned her face into a frown. "People, or nations, they don't really always know what they really want. I help them see the truth. Yeah, I'm _helping_ them to love and hate the people destiny has chosen."

"Who _you_ have chosen…" Francis mumbled, but Freya paid little attention to him. "And your little arrows are pathetic compared to what I can do. I may be called the goddess of love, but I can control other feelings. They are existing feelings too, if that soothes you. I just make them more… visible." Francis looked at the goddess with scared eyes. She really was insane, and her red eyes and sadistic plan proved it. Francis felt totally helpless, not knowing what he could do, if anything at all.

"Oh, one more thing." Freya said, creepily cheerful. "Your punishment is going to be watching all of this happen. I know that you care for your friends deeply, and watching you as you see my plan unfold… It's going to be so much fun!" Freya suddenly exclaimed and giggled, excited.

Francis couldn't have thought of a worse punishment himself. Surely he hadn't done enough to deserve this, or for his friends to deserve this… But it wasn't like that. Freya didn't seem to understand something like that. She just wanted to be entertained, the sick bitch.

He was hopeless. There was simply nothing he could do; no places to go, no escape, no plan. Just submission to Freya, who was smiling demonically as she cast a spell of some kind.

Francis felt tears fall from his face, his entire body shaking. What would she do to Alfred and Matthew? To Arthur? To Francis himself? It was just unreal, the fear and the scary thoughts of worse-case scenarios in his head. He thought of a massive fight between Alfred and Matthew; they wouldn't even need much to trigger one anyway. He imagined people being together without their own free will, and old friends turned bitter enemies.

It was all such a nightmare.

And worst of all was Arthur. What if Freya made him hate Francis? Make him fall in love with someone else, make him only a shell of his former self… Francis almost threw up at the thought.

"Come on, get up. The show is about to begin." Freya said, sounding enthusiastic; as if she was about to start watching any TV-show. "You're so sick…" Francis mumbled as he stood up, but Freya paid little attention to him. Instead, she was busy with a massive mirror that had appeared in the middle of the meadow. It had gold edges with carvings in what seemed somewhat like Norse. The massive mirror floated in the air, showing Francis himself;

A broken, crying mess.

Then, suddenly, the mirror no longer reflected him. Instead it lit up with another image. It was Matthew and Alfred, eating breakfast in what seemed like the hotel lobby. "No! You can't do this-"Francis suddenly blurted, surprising even himself. But he didn't get to say anything else before a weird sensation overtook him. He suddenly couldn't talk, and could barely move.

Freya walked over to the now immobilized Francis, annoyed. "Fourth lesson. You only speak when I want to hear you speak." She said, and then turned her back to him, to face the mirror. "And finally… Enjoy the show!" She exclaimed and laughed manically, before shooting lightning from her hands to the mirror.

And there was nothing Francis could do but watch and fear.

* * *

Matthew stirred his coffee with a small spoon, spaced out. He had a lot on his mind; a lot about Alfred.

Foremost; love. It wasn't a new feeling, but it felt as if it was a bird set free from its cage. With it came happiness, but also worry for the person all this love was for.

Alfred wasn't adapting to the new situation quite as quickly as Matthew, to say the very least. He still looked _guilty_ , and Matthew hated that look. Of course, he tried to hide it behind his happy façade- but the Canadian knew him too well to be fooled by it. Like always, Alfred wouldn't ever bring it up. He was so determined to playing the hero and being strong that he wasn't going to show his weakness.

It was tragic, seeing Alfred all-so-happy devouring his croissant, but knowing that something else was happening inside the boy's head.

Matthew partially understood, partially not. Alfred was guilty, since he actually thought he had somehow forced Matthew into a relationship with him. Things only got worse, since Matthew speculated that Alfred didn't quite buy Francis's theories of nation relationships.

Still, he was going to do his best to make things better, for both of them. He was going to show him, with whatever it took, that-

His thoughts stopped.

* * *

"You know Francis, I kind of agree with you on the Matthew/Alfred thing. It's so full of emotions and possibilities! But you tried to smooth it over, not let all those feelings free… That's all _so_ boring! I want to see drama, self-loathing and crying Francis, not this happily-ever after bullshit. And Alfred is already hanging on with so little, I wonder how little is required to break him…" Freya said, and cackled madly afterwards.

Francis tried to scream in protest, tried to move with all he had, but failed. He watched in horror at what was happening in front of his very eyes, and felt tears fall down as he heard Freya exclaim;

"I command you, Matthew Williams, to let hate take over!"

* * *

-That Alfred was totally wrong and disgusting.

Wait, what?

Matthew felt dizzy, confused. No, he didn't mean that, not at all… But something was forcing him to. He tried to fight it with everything, but then succumbed to the hatred.

"Alfred!" He suddenly shouted and shot up from his seat. Everyone in the lobby turned to look at him, for once noticing Matthew. He was furious now, he saw clearly now. A voice deep down tried to calm him down one more time, pleadingly, but it didn't stop him from succumbing to the feeling. "Did you honestly think I've actually meant the things I've been saying lately?" Alfred looked pale, confused. Matthew, on the other hand, was nothing but an embodiment of fury and anger.

"Truth is, that me, Francis and Arthur have all just been playing along, to get you to confess what you _really_ feel. I can't, even now, believe that you could ever be so disgusting, brother. But apparently you can!" Matthew said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Alfred's face was like he'd seen a ghost. "Matthew… are you okay?" He whispered. Matthew replied with the only feeling he could feel; hate. "No, and you've done this to me. I put so much trust in you, called you my brother! It's all your fault Alfred, regular people don't have feelings like that!"

' _No, stop, what is this-'_ a little voice tried to call again, but it had no effect on Matthew. He couldn't stop.

* * *

"My, this is even better than I thought!" Freya said excitedly, and glanced at Francis. He had no color on his face, and was still crying. "You know, Matthew just made up all of this crap, he's quite the improviser. And since he knows Alfred so well, he knows exactly what buttons to press to break him!"

Francis couldn't watch, couldn't do it. It was too much to watch from the mirror screen, to see Freya so enthusiastic about causing all this. He wanted to do something else, _anything_ else.

But he could only hear Freya laughing at the mirror screen, and just couldn't keep his eyes closed. He helplessly watched the scene.

* * *

Alfred didn't want to believe it.

But a part of him had suspected that things were going too well anyway, and found this more believable than Matthew actually loving him back. He was shaking, from head to toe. Humiliated and feeling disgusted with himself. _Of course_ Matthew didn't return his feelings. He'd been so dumb, again…

"You… could've just a-asked me about this…" Alfred managed to splutter through his tears as he stood up to meet Matthew in height. But he couldn't get himself to look at Matthew's eyes. "I'm not sorry. We needed to bring out the truth, you would've just lied to us!" Alfred finally mustered the courage to look at Matthew, and the look he got back finally broke him.

There really was no compassion, no understanding in those eyes. He'd never, _ever_ seen Matthew like that; so disgusted and furious. To Alfred, it just meant that this was really it; the end of their relationship. The American broke down crying as he rushed from the lobby without retaliating to Matthew's comment.

Silence ensued.

* * *

"Wow, I haven't had this much fun for a good two hundred years!" Freya said as she clapped her hands together as some kind of sick cheer. "That was quite good for the first move, don't you think?" She asked and looked over her shoulder to look at Francis, and snapped her fingers to make him capable of moving again.

The Frenchman collapsed to the ground. He took a few rushed breaths before whispering;

"Please… don't do this to them… _please_..."

He'd just witnessed Alfred totally break down. He had been so vulnerable all this time… And then, he'd been shattered by Matthew, of all people.

Francis looked at Freya with large eyes, _begging_ eyes; but there was no sympathy. "Don't try me, you know you deserve this. Face the _consequences_ , Francis." She said as she turned back to the mirror. Francis didn't want to look at the direction of the mirror; he was too broken already. So he just closed his eyes weakly, tried to wake up as if he was just in a bad dream…

The opposite happened as he slipped to blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

 **This story just keeps going from fluff to angst and whatever this chapter was. I'm sorry but not really sorry about making Freya like this... and making her punch and kick Francis was kinda hard to write. I almost changed it to something milder, but I stayed with this in the end. We've just started the beginning of the end here, and I want it to be distinct.**

 **I kind of realize now what kind of mess I created with Alfred/Matthew... But I'll talk about that particular ship a bit more when all is said and done, since there's still a few things in their future.**

 **Lets see what ships sail into Freya's storm next... or if they will?**

 **Well these A/N are already too long. Feedback is appreciated and thank you all who have shown interest in this story, I hope I don't let you down with this chapter or the ones to come.**

 **~ATS**


	7. Chapter 7

**Amor Vincit Omnia, Chapter 7**

 **Thank you to the person who pointed out Andersen is a surname, not a name... So, because I still liked it's sound, Denmark is now Anders, not Andersen. I quickly fixed that, and Andersen shouldn't appear anywhere anymore. However if you do spot a mistake like that, inform me. Also does Anders's make any sense? Should it be different? Idk, you're just gonna have to make do with this, readers.**

* * *

Arthur didn't want to get up Friday morning. He'd just rather sleep forever; his dreams weren't as bad as real life.

Last night had been one of the weirdest he'd ever experienced, and he knew it had been real because everything was so crystal clear in his memory and the book that he'd dropped last night was still on the floor.

He had his morning tea for breakfast in his room; he couldn't eat more than that anyway. He wasn't hungry because his thoughts were elsewhere; mainly around Francis.

Arthur did know that the Frenchman was important, although he would never admit out loud just how important. He was his rival, friend, ally, and…

No, this was not the time for _those_ thoughts.

Arthur forced his thoughts elsewhere by opening the TV, just for the French morning news.

 _Good morning, viewers._

 _Last night was eventful for France. Experts are unsure why, but unusually many fires started last night and emergency services were busy with more car crashes than usual. In addition to this weird occurrence, a number of famous paintings were stolen from the Louvre last night. Thankfully, the Mona Lisa and other famous works were untouched._

Arthur frowned. Something wasn't right.

 _Paris De Gaulle airport had to shut down early this morning due to many computer malfunctions. Hundreds of flights have been canceled. The police are investigating the possibility of a cyberattack._

 _And…_

The news reporter paused, as if she was listening to something from her earphone-device. Arthur didn't like it when her smile faded.

 _Uh, right. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to inform you but we have just received reports of a hostage situation in Lyon. We are unsure of the details, but it seems to be taking place in a bank…"_

Arthur shut the TV. He knew why this was happening.

He'd seen something like this happen many times, even experienced it. When countries were not doing well, because of a war or other similar event, their national avatar usually got sick or felt uneasy. Arthur had even gotten bruises out of nowhere during the bombing of London in the Second World War.

But this seemed to work both ways. Because if an avatar got seriously hurt or something, the country seemed to suffer also. Lightly, but noticeably. However this was no longer light…

Francis had to be in serious pain or… or…

No. Arthur stopped himself from thinking that. Of course Francis was alive! However as he dressed for the day, he felt the thoughts from yesterday come back. Especially the thought of Francis's funeral…

Arthur felt just a little bit of panic arise. But he bit his lip and put on his coat, hiding his emotions like the stereotypical Englishman he was. He had a plan; a nice, long stroll around Paris to calm his nerves.

The people in the lobby were talking and whispering to each other a lot as Arthur walked past them to get to the front door. He got the feeling he'd missed out on something, but shook it off.

There were more important things to think about.

Once outside, he started walking aimlessly. Arthur went past parks, shops, cafes, libraries and many monuments. But something was off…

The birds in the sky sung just a little quieter, the people he went past seemed oddly gloomier than usual, and the atmosphere was just… _different_. There was no "vibe" of Paris, like there had been before. Arthur had barely noticed it before, but now that it was strangely gone, he missed it dearly.

He stopped to sit down on a park bench. In front of him was a playground, but there were no children there. _'Unusual for a city of over two million residents…'_ Arthur thought, and just couldn't help but think how much better things would be if Francis were to be right next to him on the bench. He alone was all that was needed to bring life to the nearly empty park…

Arthur didn't want to miss him so much already.

And once he had those thoughts, he was rolling downhill again. _'Why Francis? What did he do? Will he come back? What is Freya doing to him at this very moment?'_

Arthur's mind was in overdrive, and only then realized how worried sick he was about everything. What if Francis would never come back… what if he'd stay as Freya's prisoner for all eternity and Arthur would have to watch France suffer from the news every day?

And if he never was to come back… would "Arthur" slowly leave too? He still had a lot of friends and company, sure. But Francis was important, _vital_ for Arthur…

Truly irreplaceable.

They'd known each other for over a thousand years, fought many wars against each other and with each other. Even at the point of their most bitter rivalry, Arthur could've never killed Francis and France. He knew and had experienced almost the same things as Arthur; they'd been in so many funerals and weddings together, cried and laughed. Seen the world go to hell and then rise from the ashes over and over, seen rebellions and tyranny…

There were too many bad memories to carry alone. Arthur had nobody else he could truly rely on if something terrible were to happen, nobody who would understand as well as Francis. Arthur had been there for Francis as his country was invaded by the Germans, been there to hold his hand and to tell him that all was not lost. Vice versa, Francis was the one who Arthur had gone to tell about Alfred's declaration of independence and his loss in the war. The Frenchman had seen the slow fall of the British Empire and been there to pull Arthur up to his feet again, to help Arthur get over it and keep fighting on.

Because after all, this was their device. When it really came down to it, they could always lean on each other for support. And Arthur wasn't sure when he'd started wishing he could fall to the other's arms a bit more often.

It was love, Arthur knew it and was way past the point of arrogantly denying it. He wondered if Francis thoughts so too, deep down. His subtle- and not-so-subtle sexual innuendos and actions would be a sign, if he didn't act like that around just about anyone. Arthur feared that if Francis truly knew what he felt, their very close relationship would change forever, and not in a good way.

And he was content with not telling Francis. He just needed their relationship to go on like it had for centuries. Have him in Arthur's life in at least some way…

The Brit hadn't really even considered the possibility of a life without Francis before. And when he had (WW2, when times were grim for France), it'd only made him fight on harder for Francis's sake.

But what could he even do now?

Francis was somewhere far away, trapped by an insane goddess. Arthur felt helpless, useless and as if he was letting Francis down. Arthur made his right hand into a fist as he felt the tears easily overwhelm his defenses.

The teardrops fell from his cheeks, one by one. He tried to make it stop, but soon gave up. What difference did it make if he cried or not?

Nobody stopped to ask him if he was alright. In fact, almost nobody walked past. He lost track of time as he fully explored the worst possible scenarios that his brain could provide. All the happy endings he'd previously imagined were dying. The ones when they would both just walk endlessly on beaches, holding hands and listening to the birds. The days they would almost entirely devote to memories and their hundreds of dead friends, when they'd both cry but be glad the other still remembered. And what about that trip to the Louvre? He couldn't possibly go there alone, in fact Arthur never had. Francis had always been there with him, it was special in that way.

And lastly, the horrifying idea of Francis's face slowly blurring in his memory. Forgetting the color of his eyes, the length of his hair, that smile he usually had…

That thought really, finally broke him. But also forced him to stand up from the bench. Francis wasn't gone yet, and even if Lukas and Anders had both thought that rescuing him was nearly impossible, Arthur would try, he would _die_ trying. Because Francis had never let him down when Arthur truly needed him, Arthur wouldn't give up either.

Wiping his tears, his face turned to show absolute determination.

 _Arthur was going to get him back, and show Freya exactly what happens when you mess with the British!_

* * *

The door of the hotel was opened with force. As Arthur walked in, he got some odd looks, but the people left in the almost-desolate lobby didn't stop him. Arthur marched on, with a clear destination.

Anders's and Lukas's room.

But as he entered the elevator, he saw Carlos. The embodiment of Cuba was clearly worried about something, but seemed relieved to find Arthur.

"Arthur, you look busy, but this is _urgent_ -"He started, but was cut off by Arthur. "I'm very, _very_ busy right now. I have to focus, so I'm afraid this is going to have to wait." He said, but slightly curious about what Carlos was saying.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to at least hear me out." Carlos replied, not giving in. "Matthew is acting totally crazy, and the boy is furious. He yelled at Alfred this morning, like _really_ yelled. I've never seen him like that…" Carlos paused for a moment. "I tried to talk to him, but it's no use. Alfred is locked up in his room, and after the things Matthew said in the lobby… I doubt he's coming out anytime soon."

Arthur stopped. Were they fighting _now_ , of all times? But something wasn't right; Matthew wouldn't snap at Alfred like that, it was so unlike him…

"After I gave up, I tried to look for you and Francis. I can't find Francis, but at least I bumped into you." He said, observing Arthur's reaction. The brit sighed. "I know you and Matthew are close… but if you couldn't help, I doubt I can help either. And I really need to find Lukas and Anders, or one of them. Have you seen them?" Arthur asked as he pressed the button for the fourth floor, but was surprised as Carlos moved Arthur's hand so he pressed the third instead. "They also went to check on Matthew, should still be there." The Cuban spoke, walking out of the elevator. "Uh, thanks." Arthur managed to thank, before the doors closed.

Lukas and Anders were indeed sitting outside Matthew's door, talking to each other concerned. Arthur walked over to them quickly, and kneeled to join their conversation.

"Arthur! Good that you're here." Anders spoke. "Matthew is acting stra-"He began, but was cut off by Arthur. "I know, Carlos told me." Lukas and Anders changed looks, but then Anders continued. "Right. Say, is there something we should know about Alfred and Matthew?"

Arthur pondered if he should tell them. He and Francis had agreed to let the two tell people on their own about their relationship, and intervene in their business as little as possible. They were independent nowadays, anyway. But things were already messy, and Matthew had apparently already made it clear to many _something_ was going on.

"They started dating a few days ago." Arthur muttered, quietly. "But it's been turbulent." Anders and Lukas nodded at the same time (kind of cutely), signaling Arthur to go on. "I think something is off. Alfred is the more unstable of the two, and just more prone to stuff like this in general. This doesn't feel right; Matthew doesn't act like this." He voiced his suspicions, and Lukas seemed to be pondering about something. "Arthur, I think that there is a very real chance Freya is involved here." Lukas whispered, almost as if someone was listening. Arthur was confused by that. "How come?" He asked, frowning.

Lukas cleared his throat, the way he usually did when he was about to explain something complex. "Freya is the goddess of love, but in truth, she can also control other emotions. I fear that this is what she's done to Matthew." Arthur's eyes went wide. Freya was messing with Alfred and Matthew, of all the people? "They really, really don't need this right now. Why them?" Arthur asked, shocked. Lukas slowly shook his head. "I wish I knew. There doesn't seem any way to return Matthew to normal, at least to my knowledge. But I think you should talk to him, just to see what happens." Lukas suggested, gesturing towards Matthew's door.

Arthur had originally planned to ask Lukas something else, but refrained. It could wait just a moment; he had to see Matthew's state for himself. He knocked on his door, lightly at first, but then harder. "Open the door, Matthew. It's me, Arthur." He said. He thought at first that the other just wasn't going to open the door, but a bit of shuffling around was then heard from the room and a very, very angry Matthew opened the door.

"What do you want now? Are you here to defend Alfred, that sick fuck?" Arthur flinched at the sight of Matthew. His look was not the gentle Canadian he usually was; no, he looked as if he could slaughter ten puppies without blinking. It was actually terrifying, the change. But Arthur _had_ to be tough here. "Matthew, let's just have a cup of tea and discuss this calmly. No need for such emotional outbursts." He said, calmly and more adult-like than he'd thought was possible. Matthew looked as if he was going to slam the door for a few seconds, but then reluctantly opened the door just enough to let Arthur in.

Once inside, Arthur noticed the state of his room. Matthew's usually clean room was a mess, books lying on the floor, as if they'd been thrown around. But Arthur was careful not to mention it; the Canadian seemed so on edge that anything could send Arthur flying out of the room. So, he found the electric water boiler and started making some tea. Matthew just coldly observed from the bed, and Arthur felt as if his every move was being monitored. Soon enough though, Arthur handed over a cup to Matthew and sat down next to him on the bed.

"I don't really get why you're acting like this." Arthur said, although he'd just been explained why. Matthew frowned. "If you didn't know, Alfred has sick thoughts towards me. Like, _incestuous_ thoughts. Can you actually believe this shit?" He exclaimed, stirring his tea with a spoon a bit too roughly, just so a little drop escaped the teacup. "Matthew, I'm no expert on the subject but surely you know that things get a little complicated when we talk of "incest" between nations?" Matthew didn't like that. He set his teacup aside and started to speak in an even angrier way than before. "You sound like Francis! You seriously buy all of his bullshit about relationships? We're not that different from humans!" He said, making Arthur feel a little threatened. But he already had his answer planned. "Look, if you would've seen all the things I've seen during my lifetime; the nations bonding, loving each other, hating each other… You would understand that we are slightly similar to humans. But as soon as you dig deeper, things get _very_ complicated. Like, think Antonio and Lovino. The other is way older, and basically raised Lovino, but yet, they are dating. And-"He was cut off.

"Don't you _dare_ start lecturing me, Arthur! None of that matters, _I just feel it_ , how wrong it is for Alfred to love me! I know what I want, or more like what I _don't_ want. I only told him the truth this morning!" Matthew almost yelled. Arthur knew what he'd try next. "No you didn't. We both know that the _real_ truth is that you love him too!"

Matthew's frown seemed to soften, his expression weaken. The very smallest teardrops formed at the corners of his eyes, and Arthur thought he had broken through to the _real_ Matthew Williams. The Canadian moved his lips, as to try and say something…

But then, that little pause was gone.

"I do NOT. Now get OUT of my room or I will make you!" Matthew roared, and Arthur quickly left. But he'd seen it; that this truly was not Matthew. And that was enough.

* * *

Freya gritted her teeth as she felt a bit of pain in her head. This wasn't as planned… She had to silence Lukas and Anders, they were (once again) messing with her plans. Freya had something already in store for Arthur, and she just couldn't have him running around knowing too much. It'd been entertaining to watch them try and plot against her at first, but that was boring now, and a threat to the success of her plans.

She looked behind her, just to check that Francis was still out cold. He was, and after seeing that, she cast a spell.

* * *

"Yeah, you were right, he isn't himself. I was just going to ask you about…" Arthur started speaking to Lukas and Anders, but paused as he saw the scene in front of him.

It was Freya, standing behind Lukas and Anders, who were totally unaware of her. "Huh? You look like you've seen a ghost, what's-" Anders started, but was cut off abruptly, because he was frozen in place. He _and_ Lukas, both unmoving. Freya smiled as she stepped over the two seated, now frozen nations. Arthur instantly recognized her as the woman who had taken Francis, but her eyes were glowing red, unlike last time.

"Well hello Arthur. We didn't have time to formally greet last time. I'm Freya." She said, extending her hand like she was attempting to shake Arthur's hand, and even smiled a little. He took a few steps back, trembling a little, fearing something bad would happen if they touched. And even if nothing bad would happen, he wasn't going to kindly shake the hand of a woman who had just kidnapped Francis. She frowned in disapproval as she lowered her hand. "Fine then, let's not even try to be nice to each other." She said as she leant against the wall. "What the bloody hell do you want from Francis?" Arthur asked, trying to sound as threatening as possible. Freya only smiled a little at the Brit. "I want him to not mess with my plans. And I want that from you too; don't try _anything_ , or Francis will suffer. And by suffering I mean forcing emotions down his throat; how about destroying all his trust towards you, for starters?" She said, chuckling a bit.

Arthur bit his lip, trying his very hardest to show no weakness. But the thought of Francis not trusting him, even _fearing_ him was a horrible one. "So if you want to save your friend, or whatever you think he is to you, from that… Hand over the necklace. She said, killing all her fake cheerfulness.

"What necklace?" Arthur asked, trying to play dumb. Freya wasn't fooled. "I know you have it; Lukas and Anders gave it to you and you have it on at this very moment. I'll ask nicely one more time; _Give it here._ "

Arthur wondered if he should give it to her or not… but it was his only real bargaining chip.

 _Earlier, with Anders and Lukas;_

" _What is that? Why is it glowing like that?" Arthur said, shocked. Lukas was holding a necklace in his hand, a very basic silver one. But it had one, small, emerald-like gem in it which glowed brightly. He felt it; there was something mystical about the necklace, magical even._

" _Arthur, calm down. And Anders, get something to clean that tea with…" Lukas sighed, but then continued. "This here is a 'linkstone', used to teleport from our world to the heavenly worlds. It's something me and Anders stole from Freya years ago, in an attempt to lock her into the heavenly realm of Fólkvangr. However, it appears she has figured out another way to travel from this world to the other, so in the end it never stopped her. However; you can understand why it is vital for us." Lukas said, and Arthur nodded in understanding. "I see… But you don't know how Freya suddenly got her powers back and the ability to travel between worlds?" He asked and the Norwegian confirmed his suspicion. "No idea."_

"I don't think so." Arthur mumbled and lifted the necklace so it was over, not under his shirt. Freya frowned, before laughing obnoxiously. "You have the spirit, but I wonder if you can actually stop me from taking it." She spoke, and mumbled something. It was like a poem, a spell in a language Arthur had never heard before.

He had to act fast, think of a way out… Seconds became hours as he frantically observed every route, every possibility, every detail.

Arthur concluded that there was no way out but with the necklace's power. He felt bad, leaving Lukas and Anders behind, but there was no other option. He'd never actually tested the thing before; hell, he just found out about it.

Arthur just had to try.

He squeezed the gem in his left hand and moved his right behind his back, and made it into a fist. Freya's eyes widened; she'd noticed what was going on. She raised her hands, now sparkling, and snapped her fingers.

Lightning came from her hands, suddenly, quickly.

But it all went through Arthur, who was already fading away to another place. He smiled victoriously, smugly, although he had no idea where he was now going. Still, Arthur saw that it was worth it from Freya's enraged expression. Arthur took one good look at her, to try and find out everything about his enemy.

Her eyes were red, her hair absolutely blonde, gown pure white and her flower crown still firmly in place. Then he realized, that something besides the goddess's eyes had changed from the time they last met, with Francis. However, there was no time to think about that as he felt himself slide quickly into unconsciousness and his body disintegrate into thin air.

* * *

Anders would've smiled, if he wasn't frozen in place. Arthur was safe now, and that was the most important.

Freya was fuming with anger. She turned to face Lukas and Anders, with a murderous gaze. "Well, it seems your friend has left you two to me." She muttered, snapping her fingers to free the two. "So let's try something." She said cheerfully, but didn't smile the slightest. "I command you, Anders Køhler, to never trust Lukas again.

And so, she shot lightning to Anders head, earning a scream from Lukas. Anders was instantly unconscious, and as the lightning stopped, Lukas hurried over to him to check on him. Lukas was yelling in panic, seeing Anders in his state, and tears were everywhere.

He turned his head to look at a fading Freya. He felt only anger at that sight. "DON'T YOU DARE RUN AWAY!" Lukas screamed, in a way he hadn't screamed for ages. "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU PAY FOR ALL YOU'VE DONE! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Freya just smiled, just slightly amused at the display.

And long after Freya was gone, Lukas was still crying. He would've screamed, but his throat wasn't capable of making any sound anymore. He just sobbed.

Suddenly, Anders stirred in Lukas's arms. His eyes opened, revealing a soft, caring expression. His lips moved a little, and after seemingly a bit of a struggle he managed to whisper;

"I love you, don't believe what I say aft-after-wards…" Anders said, before his eyes closed again. Lukas tried to smile at that to reassure him of that. "I love you too, I won't believe any of it…" He whispered, voice hoarse. Then, after a heartbeat or two, Anders's eyes opened up wide. He jumped from Lukas, eyes full of only fear. "Stay… STAY AWAY!" Anders exclaimed, eyes wide with horror.

Lukas only cried harder as his body sunk to lay on the floor, because the man he'd loved was now gone.

* * *

 **Amazing, another chapter done. Next time I think I'll give our other pairs some love... or hate...**

 **Feedback is appreciated, and thank you for reading this.**


End file.
